


Discomfort

by Kalkasar (Mordhena)



Series: Cold Comfort [2]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Triangles, M/M, Protective Phlox, Psychic Violence, Soap Opera, Telepathy, Unethical Experimentation, Unethical Medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Kalkasar
Summary: Trip and Malcolm continue to (avoid) work through the break in their relationship caused by Trip's encounter with Kaitaama.A story where I wanted to knock their heads together more than once!I kinda sorta did... as you'll see when you read it.
Relationships: Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Series: Cold Comfort [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947538
Comments: 28
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows on from Cold Comfort and covers a several episodes arc of _Enterprise_ starting from "Precious Cargo" through "The Catwalk," "Dawn," and "Stigma." There are mild spoilers for all of those episodes herein, but especially for "Precious Cargo" and "Stigma.".

Tucker’s skin still smarted from the sunburn he'd received on that alien moon. The doctor had given him cream to put on it that had helped a lot, but there was some residual soreness that Phlox said would fade, 'with time.' Tucker shrugged his shoulders against the fabric of his uniform. It hurt. Sunburn wasn't the only thing that pained him though, he was hurting for a reason that went beyond the physical discomfort of too much solar radiation.  
  
When Tucker returned to the ship, the captain had come to sickbay, but Reed had not.  
  
Trip told himself that the lieutenant was on duty and would probably call by after his shift. They'd had this unspoken routine since being stranded without power aboard shuttle pod 1. Whenever one or the other was involved in a dangerous situation, they'd look in on each other; even before they had begun to explore the possibility of something deeper than friendship. That Reed hadn't done it this time, hurt more than the commander wanted to admit.  
  
After saying goodbye to the alien Zho'Kaan, Tucker made his way back to his quarters. Some more of that cream seemed like a good idea right about then, and besides, maybe Malcom would come by soon.  
  
Tucker remembered making what he feared may be his final log entry before he was rescued. He had known that he was rambling, his mind was losing focus, but he wanted to record those last words. Thinking about it now brought a wry smile to his lips as he remembered berating Reed for doing the same thing back on Shuttle pod 1. _What's wrong with having a little hope, Malcolm?_  
  
Tucker keyed the entry code to his quarters and stepped inside. He had all but given up hope down there on that moon; a dying alien lying nearby, the heat becoming more intense by the moment. Tucker never had coped well with hot weather.  
  
He'd said he didn't regret any of it. That wasn't entirely true. The part about spending the night with a princess...that one he did regret, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to say it in an official log. They were out here to explore, they were heroes. Heroes weren't permitted to have regrets. Not officially anyway. Tucker unzipped his uniform and reached for the tub of soothing cream that he'd left on his bedside cabinet.  
  
Smoothing the cream over his shoulders and chest, he closed his eyes. The stuff had something in it that felt deliciously cool to his burning skin. The only thing that could possibly make it feel any better was if Malcolm had been there to rub it in for him. The thought of Malcolm's hands on his body caused an involuntary shudder, and an immediate stirring down below. Tucker shook himself. He replaced the lid on the tub and lay down on his bed. Maybe he'd just close his eyes for a minute. Malcolm had the code for his cabin; he had let himself in before.  
  
  
He dreamed he was back on the alien moon. The sun beat down without mercy and he felt his skin blistering. He thought he should put his shirt back on, but the effort seemed too great. He only had strength to nudge Zho'Kaan awake and offer him more of the putrid brown fluid the creature consumed.  
  
Dragging himself to all fours, he caught hold of the alien's knee and weakly shook it.  
  
"Hey! Hey! Wake up!"  
  
There was no response and Tucker dragged himself up to look into Zho'Kaan's face. What he saw made him recoil in horror. It wasn't the alien he'd been marooned with. It was Malcolm. Cold, frozen; his skin deathly pale. Suddenly, Tucker was chilled. He shivered, hugging himself to try and keep warm. The blanket was gone, and he couldn't see it anywhere. He bent over Malcolm and shook him.  
  
"Malcolm! Malcolm, wake up!" The man didn't respond, and Tucker realized with a sinking feeling of dread that his lover had died. He shook his head in denial and lurched backwards. "No!"  
  
And then the captain was dragging him to his feet. "Come on, we hafta keep moving, we need to get to shelter before those ships return."  
  
Trip's ribs hurt, and his throat burned with thirst. He wearily forced one foot to move in front of the other. "Ya oughta leave me...I'm...I'm no good. I..."  
  
"I'm not leaving you, Trip."  
  
"I never meant to hurt you."  
  
"Why, Trip? That's what I don't understand. Why?"  
  
Tucker looked up at Jon, why were they having this conversation? He'd never done anything to hurt his best friend. This wasn't right. He found himself looking into pain darkened grey eyes.  
  
"Malcolm?"  
  
"I don't think this is going to work," Malcolm said. He turned away and Trip lurched after him, dragging himself through the scorching sands that seemed to cling to his feet and legs, making it impossible to walk.  
  
"Malcolm! Stop! Wait!" He dropped to his knees and bowed his head. He couldn't go any further. He was too tired.  
  
Icy cold hit him like a solid wall. Tucker flinched and huddled into himself with a groan of distress. He lifted his head and looked around. He was aboard Shuttle Pod 1, on the access ladder that led into the airlock. Malcolm stood below, pointing a phase pistol at him. Tucker shook his head in confusion. "You're dead," he said, and his heart began to race with the dread of those words.  
  
Malcolm stared up at him, his eyes hard and cold.  
  
"Plenty phases me," he said. "Like having my heart stomped all over by you. _That_ hurt."  
  
He turned the phase pistol to point at his heart. Malcolm was still staring into Tucker's eyes as he pressed the trigger.  
  
"NO!"  
  
Tucker bolted up in his bed. His heart hammering as the images from his nightmare slowly faded. He breathed hard and fought to kick free of the sheet which had become tangled around his legs. Rubbing his face with the palm of one hand the commander cast a glance at the chrono beside his bed. 0100. Malcolm hadn't come.  
  
His cabin was too cold. The thermostat needed adjusting, but he sat on his bed for a long time without moving.  
  
After adjusting the thermostat, Tucker returned to the bed and lay down on his stomach. His shoulders tingled with a sensation like pins and needles, only sharper, but he didn't have the energy to put more cream on his skin. For the first time in five months, he felt truly alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Canon doesn't give us any time frame between Minefield and Dawn. Minefield has no known date listed, according to canon. The events of Precious Cargo and The Catwalk occurred in September 2152. Hence, I have taken some license with the timeline and said that Minefield was only a 'couple of months' prior to the events in Dawn. If I am proven wrong at a later date, then so be it, but since there is no firmly established timeline, I hope you will tolerate my appropriating time to fit the story.
> 
> * * *

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed stood in the corridor, staring at the button that would sound the door chime. He glanced both ways along the hall and then stabbed at the button with one finger.  
  
The muffled: "C'm'in!" sounded sleepy and he wondered for a moment if this was really a good idea. It was, after all, past 0200 and he should have been sleeping; just as the cabin's occupant obviously had been. He took a backwards step and was about to walk away when the door slid open.  
  
"Malcolm?" He was greeted with a sleepy smile and waved into the room.  
  
"Sorry to come here at such an ungodly hour," Malcolm muttered. "I... couldn’t sleep."  
  
"It's okay," Travis replied. He reached for a shirt and pulled it over his head. "Did you go to see Trip?"  
  
Malcolm shook his head and eased himself into a chair. "No."  
  
"Okay." Travis sat on the side of his bunk. The one above it was empty; his bunkmate was on Gamma shift. "Why not?"  
  
"I don't know." Reed gave an exasperated sigh. "I wanted to. I... I’m confused, and I suppose in a way I still wanted to hit back." He shook his head. "Stupid."  
  
"No. It's not stupid." Mayweather stood up and went to the small cooler. Taking out a bottle, he waved it towards Reed in query. When the lieutenant shook his head, he fetched a glass and poured himself some water, moving back to the bunk before he sipped it. "It's understandable. From what you've told me, you and the commander were very ... serious. I'd probably feel the same way you do."  
  
"Thanks." Reed rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand. "God, I'm tired," he muttered. "I don't think I've had a full night's sleep since before the storm hit us."  
  
"You really care about Commander Tucker, don't you?"  
  
Malcolm gave a short, mirthless snort of laughter. "Yes. Imbecile that I am. I can't turn that off, you know? Even with all that's happened..."  
  
Mayweather nodded and drank the last of the water in his glass. "Yeah. I know how _that_ feels."  
  
Malcolm looked up, studying the younger man for several moments in silence. He raised an eyebrow.  
  
With a smile, Travis shook his head. "It happened a long time ago," he said, dodging the unspoken question.  
  
"I feel like such an idiot!" Sudden anger flared, and Reed got to his feet, pacing the confined space of Mayweather's cabin. "He's so goddamned cocksure that I'll take him back. Even his so-called apology smacked of arrogance. If I _do_ take him back, he's going to gloat about it for a month!" He stopped and looked at the ensign. "If I don't..." he swallowed convulsively. "You know there's a part of me that says I should give him a taste of his own medicine...I should let him see how it _feels_ to be played for an idiot."  
  
"Is that what you want to do?" Mayweather asked.  
  
"I don't know. I just feel the need to do _something_ I feel like... I feel he doesn't really understand how seriously it hurt... he's always so..." Reed stopped short of using the word shallow, but it had crossed his mind more than once that Tucker obviously hadn't been as committed to their relationship as he was himself. He let out a breath and shook his head. Returning to his seat, he looked into Mayweather's eyes. "I think I'm going to break it off."  
  
"Malcolm...are you sure that's the right thing to do?" Mayweather stared into his friend's eyes. "I know you're hurting. You've got a right to be. But..."  
  
" _He's_ the one who broke our relationship," Reed said.  
  
"True." Travis set his empty glass on the floor by his feet. "But you haven't really given him much of a chance to fix it."  
  
Malcolm felt a surge of irritation at the remark, but he bit his tongue against the angry words he wanted to fling. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He knew he was tired and likely to make hasty decisions because of it. Malcolm stood up. "I should go," he said softly. "I've taken up a lot of your time lately." He offered his friend a small smile. "I appreciate your putting up with me."  
  
"Don't mention it," Mayweather said. "Glad to help." He showed Reed to the door. "I told you I'm here for you anytime, right?"  
  
The lieutenant nodded. "You did."  
  
"I meant it." With a smile, Mayweather opened the door. "You should try and catch an hour or two of sleep," he advised. "You don't want the captain on your case."  
  
"I'll try," Reed replied with a sigh.  
  
As he walked along the corridor, Reed thought about Mayweather's comments. Perhaps he was being unfair to Tucker by not giving him a chance to prove himself. He stifled a sigh as he rounded a corner. With his eyes downcast, he didn't realize someone was approaching from the opposite direction until they had almost collided.  
  
"Sorry." Reed looked up to find himself face to face with Captain Archer. He took a backwards step. "Captain. Good morning," he said.  
  
"Malcolm." Archer glanced down at Porthos. "Sit." The captain returned his gaze to Reed's face. "You're up early."  
  
"Actually, I was just heading back to bed," Malcolm said.  
  
Archer nodded. "I won't keep you, then." He took a step past the lieutenant and clicked his fingers to his dog.  
  
"Goodnight, Sir." Malcolm walked a few paces.  
  
"Malcolm?"  
  
He turned and looked back at Archer. "Sir?"  
  
"I was wondering," Archer moved to stand in front of him. "If you'd like to join me for lunch today?" He offered an affable grin. "Our... last meal together was cut short. I haven't had a chance since then to reschedule."  
  
Reed recalled the aborted breakfast a couple of months previously, which had been disrupted by the discovery of a Menshara class planet, and then the encounter with the alien mines. He nodded and met the captain's eyes. "All right, Sir."  
  
"Good. I'll expect you in my mess at twelve hundred. Good night."  
  
"Good night, Captain."


	3. Chapter 3

Malcolm Reed was right on time for lunch with the captain. Correct and  
pristine in a fresh uniform, his dark hair neatly combed and his boots  
polished. He made his way through the main mess hall without a glance to  
left or right. He had to admit, he was looking forward to this meal more  
than he had the last time the captain had invited him to his table. He  
paused outside the door to the captain's mess and smoothed his uniform  
before he pressed the chime.  
  
"Come in," Archer's voice called from inside.  
  
Reed stepped into the room and nodded to the captain who was already seated  
at the table. He moved to a chair and pulled it out, seating himself and  
looking into the captain's eyes. "Good afternoon, Captain."  
  
"Malcolm." Archer nodded and looked him over. "I see you didn't bring any  
work with you this time."  
  
Malcolm smirked. "I didn't think this was a work conference, sir."  
  
The captain chuckled. "No. It's not."  
  
"Good." Malcolm picked up a napkin and unfolded it.  
  
Archer studied him for a moment, his green eyes gleaming with amusement. He  
glanced up when the galley door slid open to admit a steward.  
  
"I ordered pot roast," he said, watching the younger man for his reaction.  
  
The change in expression was so slight it would have been easy to miss, but  
Archer caught it. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. We're  
having fish ... I hope that's all right."  
  
With a small shake of his head, Reed met the captain's eyes. "Anything  
 _other_ than pot roast is fine with me, sir." he said. He wasn't  
surprised that his fit of pique about the menu on the catwalk had gotten  
back to the captain's ears. He could only claim his almost  
constant nausea during the worst of the spatial disturbance as his reason  
for being out of sorts. He inhaled appreciatively as the steward set a  
platter in front of him. The aroma of broiled fish with lemon and butter was  
appetizing. He picked up his knife and fork.  
  
Archer watched him for a moment before he began to eat his own meal.  
  
They ate in silence for a while, each man absorbed in his own thoughts. It  
was Archer who broke the silence.  
  
"If you don't mind my saying so, you seem a lot more relaxed than you did  
the last time we had a meal together."  
  
Reed set down his fork with a laugh. "I admit I was a bit worried that  
morning," he said. He looked into the captain's eyes. "I came here convinced  
that I was to receive a dressing down."  
  
"Dressing down?"  
  
Reed nodded. "Hm... I assumed you'd found out that Trip and I were involved  
with each other, and you were going to tell me it had to stop."  
  
"I see." Archer picked up a glass of water and sipped from it. "I didn't  
know about that then. In fact, I didn't know about it until ..." He looked  
away and cut another piece of fish. "Sorry. You probably don't want to talk  
about that."  
  
"I don't mind." Reed took a mouthful of salad. "It's fact, no point trying  
to pretend it didn't happen."  
  
Archer nodded.  
  
Silence stretched between them again, but neither of them was uncomfortable  
with it, or inclined to break it. They finished the main course in  
companionable silence, and Reed leaned back in his chair, studying the  
captain for a moment. "I'm glad we got the chance to do this again," he said  
after a moment.  
  
"So am I." Archer looked up and their eyes met. "Malcolm have you talked  
to..."  
  
He broke off as the galley door slid open. A steward entered with  
bowls of fruit salad and set them down. He cleared the plates and left.  
  
"Talked to Trip?" Reed finished the thought. "No. Not really. We had a  
'discussion' of sorts a day or so before leaving the catwalk,  
but... since then, no."  
  
Archer frowned.  
  
"If you're going to tell me I ought to... you're not the first. Travis has  
said the same thing. I don't think I'm ready yet."  
  
The captain nodded and looked into Malcolm's eyes. "I wasn't going to," he  
said. "You'll do what you think you need to, when the time's right."  
  
Malcolm picked up a spoon and dipped it into the bowl of fruit. "I do  
appreciate your concern, though," he said in an undertone. "It's just that  
everyone has been so..." he stirred the fruit, watching the nectar it  
floated in swirl around in the bowl. "So _bloody nice_ about it!"  
  
Archer regarded him in silence, his green eyes dark with something  
unreadable.  
  
"I _wish_ someone would get as angry about it as I feel. You know if this  
had happened to a woman, she'd have the luxury of a good solid bitch session  
with a group of her friends. Every one of them would hate the louse who  
played her up ..."  
  
"Sounds like the voice of experience speaking?" Archer broke in.  
  
"Yeah...I've got a sister," Malcolm reminded him. "I've listened to her with  
her friends sometimes... they completely assassinate the  
character of whichever scumbag hurt the latest victim and then they move  
on." He met the captain's eyes. "We don't have that option it seems. Well, I  
don't at any rate." He looked away and took a half-hearted mouthful of fruit  
salad.  
  
"You're right," Archer said after a moment. He turned to the com panel and  
pushed a button. A moment later the galley door opened and the steward  
returned.  
  
"Has Chef got any chocolate cake in the kitchen?" Archer asked.  
  
"Yessir," the Steward replied.  
  
"Bring us two slices... no-- on second thought, bring the whole cake."  
  
"Aye, captain."  
  
When the cake was delivered, accompanied by two clean desert plates and a  
knife the captain cut two generous slices. Putting one in front of Reed,  
he grinned. "A bitch session isn't complete without chocolate cake," he  
said. "I may not have any sisters, but I've had enough female friends in my  
time to know that."  
  
Reed stared at him in astonishment for a moment and then he laughed. "You're  
not serious. Trip's your best friend."  
  
"Sure..." Archer smiled, "But he's also 'the scumbag who hurt the latest  
victim'." He gestured at the cake and picked up his spoon.  
  
"So... bitch."  
  
Malcolm shook his head slowly, but he picked up his spoon. "Where to begin,"  
he mused as he took a large spoonful of the rich mud cake.  
  
#  
  
  
Trip Tucker made his way to the mess hall out of habit more than  
appetite. It was lunch time. His roster said he had a meal break at  
that hour, but he didn't feel the need to eat. He walked into the mess and  
found a table, sitting down without even getting a cup of coffee. He would  
spend an hour here, he supposed, staring at his crewmates and watching them  
eat and breathe and go on about their lives as if nothing had happened. He  
drew a deep sigh and let his gaze drop to the table top, studying a pattern  
in the shiny surface and imagining that he saw all kinds of things in it.  
Like lying on his back watching clouds in a blue sky.  
  
He remembered a planet that Enterprise had visited where he and Malcolm had  
done that. It had been as near to an Earth like atmosphere as it could get.  
Blue skies, grassy meadows and clouds. Big white fluffy ones that billowed  
across the sky like overfed sheep. He'd convinced Malcolm to lie down with  
him in the long grass and watch the clouds.  
  
"I don't see any shapes," Malcolm had grumbled. "They're clouds. I've never  
seen the point in this game."  
  
"Oh c'mon! You gotta loosen up and not think about it." Tucker pointed to a  
large cloud mass to his left. "Look there's a pony."  
  
"It's not a pony. It's a mass of vapour droplets."  
  
"You've got no imagination, Malcolm... it's a..." He hadn't got to finish the  
thought as Malcolm rolled over in the grass and pinned him to the ground.  
  
"I can think of a _much_ better game to play," he said in a breathy  
undertone. "I'm the evil tyrant, and you're my prisoner." He laughed. "I'll  
show you how much imagination I have, Mister Tucker."  
  
It was the first time they'd made love. Tucker closed his eyes at the  
memory.  
  
Malcolm's hard, lithe body thrilled him in ways that he had not experienced  
before.  
  
Tucker shuddered involuntarily and licked his lips. He wanted that back. He  
needed Malcolm.  
  
The engineer looked up sharply when someone cleared their throat next to his  
chair.  
  
"Oh, hi Hoshi." His greeting was less than enthusiastic.  
  
"Nice to see you too," Sato replied. "I asked if I could join you?"  
  
"Sure." Tucker waved her to a seat.  
  
"You're not eating."  
  
"Not really hungry," Tucker said.  
  
"I brought you some soup."  
  
When he met her eyes, a hot retort on his lips, she shrugged and offered him  
one of her little half smiles. Tucker relented and reached for the bowl.  
Sato seemed to gain a kind of satisfaction from mothering her crewmates and  
who was he to deny her.  
  
"Thanks." He took the spoon she held out to him and began to eat the soup.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
He shrugged. "I guess." He took another spoonful of soup.  
  
"You don't look okay," she told him matter-of-factly. "Why don't you..."  
  
"Hoshi! I dit'n ask you for advice!" He winced and lowered his eyes to  
the bowl in front of him. "Sorry," he muttered.  
  
"Well, maybe you didn't," Hoshi said softly. "But I'm going to offer it  
anyway." She made the little mouth that she often did when she was thinking  
of what to say next. "You should stop pussyfooting around him and  
just...talk!" A small sigh like the ones his mother gave when she had  
trouble understanding her children. "It's getting old, watching you two."  
  
"Well, I'm sorry we're not entertainin' anymore!" Tucker stood up. "I gotta  
get back to work."  
  
Masculine laughter reached them as the door to the captain's mess  
opened. Tucker glanced towards the door.  
  
Archer stood in the doorway with Malcolm Reed. They seemed oblivious to  
their surroundings as Malcolm made some remark too soft to be heard. Archer  
grinned and put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder for a moment as he replied, his  
tone equally intimate.  
  
Tucker opened his mouth to speak; thought better of it and turned to look at  
Hoshi. He shook his head and cast his lover and his best friend one more  
bleak look before he turned on his heel and stalked out of the mess hall.


	4. Chapter 4

Malcolm Reed made his way to the armory a week after his lunch with the  
captain. As he walked into the familiar surroundings of his workplace, he  
cast a critical eye over the department. Instinctively, he scanned for  
problems. Encountering nothing out of the ordinary he nodded to himself and  
walked over to a comm panel.  
  
"Reed to Engineering."  
  
"Tucker." Came the swift response.  
  
Malcolm drew a breath and let it out slowly before he spoke. "Commander, I'd  
like a word with you when you've got a moment," he said.  
  
There was a pause.   
  
"I'll be right there," Tucker said.  
  
Reed closed the comm and moved to a console; absently studying readouts  
while he waited for Tucker to arrive.  
  
Tucker walked into the armory a few moments later. "Ya got a problem,  
Lieutenant?" he asked.  
  
Reed turned to him. "Not really," he said. "Everything is fine here," He  
looked into Tucker's eyes for a moment and then he said. "I wanted to...  
talk."  
  
"If this is a personal call, I think it could probably wait. We're a little  
pushed for time in engineerin'. Besides, the cap'n..."  
  
"The captain suggested that I should talk with you, Trip." Reed waved a hand  
in a gesture for the engineer to follow him. He led the way to an alcove  
away from the main area of the armory.  
  
"He did, huh?" Tucker followed, but he folded his arms across his chest in a  
defensive posture. "Okay, what d'ya wanna talk about?"  
  
"Us."  
  
Tucker snorted. "Is there still an _us_ , Malcolm?"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Reed studied the commander as he waited for  
his reply.  
  
"Malcolm, you haven't said more than two words to me since the day we left  
the catwalk. You didn't come by to see if I was okay after bein' stranded on  
that moon...you didn't even call me. You didn't bother to answer my  
calls...You tell me what it means!"  
  
"I needed time to think... I..."  
  
"No that's not what you were doin' Malcolm! You were busy wipin' me right  
outta yer life!" Tucker stepped forward, face to face with the lieutenant.  
"You were lettin' me wait to hear from ya, and wonder what was goin' on an'  
you were gettin' _real_ cosy with the cap'n!"  
  
"That's a spurious bloody invention!"  
  
"Is it? Then you explain t'me why I saw you comin outta his mess a week ago,  
whisperin' and makin' eyes an'..."  
  
"What?" Reed's face flushed and his mouth dropped open.  
  
"Yeah, Malcolm! After all the shit you put me through about Kaitaama, you're  
screwin around with my best friend!"  
  
"You're insane! That's not what it was at all! We had _lunch_ , Trip! ONCE!"  
  
"Sure ya did!"  
  
"It's the truth...I can't _believe_ you could think such a thing!"  
  
"Why wouldn't I think it? You've been lookin' for a way to get back at me,  
and Jon just happened to be handy."  
  
"Oh this is ridiculous!" Reed turned away. He rubbed his forehead with one  
hand, suddenly feeling tired.  
  
"Oh yeah, this is ridiculous, huh? It's okay for you to drag me through hell  
for makin' a mistake, but when the boot's on the other foot, it's  
ridiculous!" Tucker paused, breathing hard. "Well fuck you, Malcolm! I don't  
need this anyway!" He turned on his heel and strode towards the door.  
  
"Trip!" Reed turned to him. "Stop."  
  
"Go t'hell!"  
  
Malcolm muttered a curse and strode across the room to block Tucker's path.  
"Don't walk out that door," he said.  
  
"And why shouldn't I? What reason can you gimme to stay?"  
  
"This." Reed stepped closer and reached up to put a hand on Tucker's  
shoulder. Pulling him down, he kissed him, hard. For a moment, the engineer  
tensed and seemed about to draw away, but Reed held him, his arms went  
around his lover's waist and his mouth became more demanding. His tongue  
flickered across Tucker's lips until with a shuddering breath, Tucker opened  
to him.  
  
Their tongues met, and Reed moaned into his lover's mouth, pulling him closer  
wanting to envelop him; to be enveloped. He shivered when Tucker took him  
into his arms and the kiss intensified, ripples of passion flowing between  
them.  
  
After several moments they parted and Tucker looked into his eyes.  
  
Tucker's eyes were dark with passion, the pupils widely dilated. "Okay," he  
gulped. "That's a reason."  
  
Reed smiled. "I could give you at least two more reasons," he purred. "But  
perhaps _those_ can wait until later."  
  
"Is that a promise?" Tucker searched his face for the answer.  
  
"Your quarters. 1900 hours."  
  
"All right..." Tucker and stepped back. Suddenly aware of their  
surroundings, he glanced around and blushed.  
  
"It's all right," Reed said. "No one's here except us. Alpha shift is due to  
start though."  
  
Tucker nodded and smoothed his uniform. "I should be headin back to  
engineerin'," he said. "Unless there's anything else you need," he added,  
slipping into a tone of voice that was all duty as a crewman came through  
the door.  
  
"Thank you Commander," Reed replied. "I think we can handle it from here."  
  
He watched as Tucker left the armory. With a shake of his head, Malcolm  
turned to a console. They still had a lot to work out, but the  
first steps had been taken. He glanced up and smiled to himself as he  
remembered Archer's parting words to him at the door to the captain's mess.  
  
"If all else fails, gag him with your tongue... I think you'll find that  
effective."  
  
I must tell Trip that, one day. Malcolm thought as he returned the greeting  
of another member of his staff.


	5. Chapter 5

The chrono beside Tucker's bed read 19:15 when he glanced at it for the  
um-teenth time that evening. Malcolm was late. Tucker shook his head. Malcom  
was _never_ late for anything. Maybe something was wrong. He got up from his  
desk and paced the floor a couple of times. Maybe he should go look for  
Reed.  
  
No, he told himself. If there was something wrong, he would have heard,  
wouldn't he? If he went looking for Malcolm it would look as though he was  
desperate. Okay sure he'd acted like a louse and he'd hurt Malcolm, but he'd  
apologized and he didn't think he needed to spend the rest of his life  
licking Reed's boots. Another glance at the chrono. Another two minutes had  
passed.  
  
Tucker sighed and sank down on his chair.  
  
Maybe Malcolm wasn't coming. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his  
thighs and stared at the floor. Maybe Malcolm had decided it was a mistake.  
That whole thing in the armory that morning had just been an illusion; they  
were no closer to working this out than they had been before. Hell, maybe it  
wasn't even real. Maybe he imagined the whole thing. "But it sure felt  
real."  
  
When the door chime sounded Tucker was hard pressed not to leap to his feet  
and run to open the door. He licked his lips, leaned back in his chair and  
took a deep breath. Smoothing one hand through his short blonde hair, he  
called softly. "C'min!"  
  
He was almost afraid to look. Worried that it would be T'Pol, or maybe the  
captain. He fully expected that it would be anyone _but_ Malcolm Reed.  
  
"Hullo," The voice was unmistakable.  
  
Tucker raised his head and smiled. "Hi."  
  
"Sorry I'm late. Had some niggles with the sensors just before the end of my  
shift. I... I suppose I should have commed."  
  
"Naw," Tucker got to his feet, unsure for a moment, what to do with his  
hands. He folded his arms across his chest, then let them fall to his sides  
and shuffled his feet. "I'm...glad you came," he murmured. "Uh..."  
  
"May I sit down?"  
  
"Um...sure!" Tucker moved a pile of data pads off the small sofa. "Go ahead."  
He waved Malcolm to a seat. "Can I get you a coffee or somethin'?"  
Shit what was wrong with him? He felt like a kid on his  
first date. No. He felt like he was at school and had been sent to the  
principal's office. His mouth had gone dry.  
  
"I'd prefer tea if you've got it." There was a hint of laughter in Reed's  
voice.  
  
He's enjoyin' this, Tucker told himself as he nodded. "I think I've got some  
around here..."  
  
"Trip," Reed said softly. "Can we just leave the drinks for now?" he met the  
engineer's eyes as Tucker turned to look at him. "I'd really much rather  
just talk if you don't mind."  
  
Letting out his breath, Tucker nodded and moved to sit on the sofa. Not too  
close, he reminded himself. Best not push things just yet. Malcolm  
was talking and that was a good start, but Tucker didn't want to do anything  
that would fuck it up.  
  
Tucker glanced at Malcolm, and then looked away. "I was startin' to think  
you wouldn't come," he said. "I wouldn't blame ya if ya didn't."  
  
Reed didn't reply immediately, and Tucker ventured another swift glance.   
Malcolm gazed at him. His eyes seemed huge in the dim light and Tucker   
couldn't help thinking how beautiful they were. Malcolm had the nicest eyes   
of anyone Tucker had ever met. Expressive, too, when they were in private. 

He ventured a small grin. "What's on your mind?"  
  
"I'm tired, Trip," Reed replied. "This has been a very trying time for me.  
I... I did think about not coming tonight. I suppose the problems with the  
sensors were not terribly urgent, I could have fixed it in the morning, or  
left it to my staff." He closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead with one  
hand. "God," he whispered.  
  
Tucker looked away, letting his eyes wander around the familiar surrounds of  
his cabin. "Did you come here t'tell me it's over between us, Mal?"  
  
"No. I don't know." Reed fell silent for several moments.  
  
"Cause I wouldn't blame ya for _that_ either." Tucker bowed his head,  
resigned. He waited for the words that would end their relationship.  
  
"Is that what you want, Charles?"  
  
"No." He didn't want to end it with Malcolm. That was the last thing he  
wanted. "But if it's what you want, there's nothin' I can do to  
change that." He sighed into the silence that grew between them. "I said I  
was sorry, Malcolm, but I understand if that's not enough." But he didn't  
understand, not really. He hadn't understood anything much for the last few  
weeks. He couldn't understand why this whole thing had become such a big  
deal. After all, neither of them had ever mentioned  
exclusivity. They'd never even discussed it. He looked  
up and found those searching eyes still on him. It was unnerving. Tucker  
bit his lip. "I don't get it though, Malcolm," he admitted. "We were never  
exclusive. We had no... understandin' about that, did we?"  
  
"By the same token, we never said we were not." Malcolm's brows drew  
together and his words became clipped, a sure sign that he was getting set  
for a fight.  
  
"Malcolm..."  
  
"What do you want, Mister Tucker? Do I have to draw up a  
contract for you? Spell it all out in writing: You belong to me between the  
hours of 2200 to 0600 and any other time you can just go and fuck whoever you  
like? What shall we say? Oral sex and hand jobs are okay but don't kiss  
anyone other than me on the lips... would that be plain enough for you,  
Trip? Would that help you to know where you stand in our relationship? Would  
you like to add an 'out clause'? Either party may terminate this agreement  
in writing provided at least fourteen days’ notice is given?"  
  
"Malcolm..."  
  
"What ever happened to the concept that having one lover at a time is  
enough?" Reed got to his feet. "Your arrogance astounds me, Charles Tucker!"  
  
"Arrogance?" Tucker leaped to his feet. "Well, pardon me, but I don't think  
I got th'monop'ly on that one! You want me to lick your boots for the rest  
of my life and I won't! I said I was sorry! Why isn't that enough?"  
  
"Because the way you say it... it's like... 'I'm sorry, Malcolm, you can come  
back to me now!’" Reed shook his head. "You assume that you can flash a smile  
and charm your way back into my good graces. You just... brush things off as  
if they mean nothing and..."  
  
"Whoa! Whoa!" Tucker held up a hand. "I didn't try to brush this off,  
Malcolm. I'm sorry if that's how it felt... but that wasn't my  
intention."  
  
"It's never your intention, is it? You just blunder your way through life,  
accidentally wreaking havoc. One of these times, Trip, you're going to fuck  
up so royally that all the good intentions in the world won't change it!"  
  
Tucker sighed and looked away. "Okay, I think you've made your  
point," he said. "Maybe you should go."  
  
"Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd love to just send me away and sit  
here feeling sorry for yourself. No dice, Mister Tucker. I came here to talk  
and I'm not leaving until I've said everything I came to say, so you'd  
better just get used to the idea!"  
  
"All right." Tucker turned to look at Reed. "If that's what you want."  
  
As quickly as it had flared, the anger and tension diffused. Reed sank down  
on the sofa. "Sit down, Trip," he said. "I don't want this to  
turn into another yelling match. I'm too tired to fight anymore."  
  
With a small nod, Tucker joined Reed on the sofa. "Me too," he murmured.  
"Let's try this again."  
  
"I think we do need to decide exactly what kind of relationship, if any, we  
have," Reed said. "I suppose we should have spoken about this  
before."  
  
Tucker nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "We do need to set some things straight  
between us. I'm willin' t'do anythin that'll help you to feel secure in us  
again, Malcolm."  
  
Reed leaned back against the sofa, resting his head on the back of it and  
looked at Tucker from under lowered lids. "Do you want to be exclusive?"  
  
"Tucker frowned and looked into Malcolm's eyes, trying to read their  
expression. He was suddenly afraid of what would happen if he  
answered that question. He looked away, studying the floor.  
  
Reed remained silent, waiting. After a long moment,  
Trip nodded. "I think I do," he said. He heard Reed let out a long breath and  
their eyes met. Malcolm sat up and moved closer to him on the sofa. "Are you  
sure?"  
  
"I'm not sure of anythin' anymore, Malcolm." Tucker looked into the  
lieutenant’s eyes. "But I know I don't want to lose you."  
  
Reed smiled and reached to smooth a strand of blond hair off Tucker's  
forehead. "I don't want to push you into anything," he said.  
  
"You're not. I want this."  
  
"All right."  
  
Silence fell again.  
  
After a moment, Tucker stirred. "Do you want that tea now?"  
  
"That would be nice," Malcolm said with a nod.  
  
"Okay." Tucker got to his feet and moved to the small cabinet next to the  
cooler. "I know I still have some around here somewhere."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild spoilers for _"Stigma"_
> 
> * * *

It was as if the universe had conspired against him, Tucker thought as he  
made his way along the corridor towards the gym. Not even two days since he  
had agreed to be exclusive with Malcolm, and Feezal Phlox showed up.  
  
She was an attractive woman. Too attractive, Tucker thought with a sigh, but  
there were too many reasons why he couldn’t even let his head go there. First  
and foremost there was his relationship with Malcolm. That had to be the  
priority. Malcolm had come so close to dumping him;  
Trip knew that, and he knew he wasn't exactly off the hook with his lover yet  
either. Even though they'd talked long into the night two days ago, the  
physical side of their relationship hadn't been re-established. Tucker had  
the definite sense that he was on probation.  
  
Then there was Phlox. Feezal was a married woman, Tucker had grown up with  
the idea that fooling with a married woman was about the lowest act anyone  
could commit. He shook his head as he walked into the gym.  
Malcolm was already there, sweating and looking incredibly sexy on one of  
the stationary bikes. Their eyes met via the large mirror on the wall.  
  
"She's at it again," Tucker complained as he headed for the bike next to the  
one Malcolm was using. He'd told Malcolm of Feezal's 'advances' at breakfast,   
which they had taken together in the privacy of Reed's  
quarters. At that point, Malcolm had been sympathetic and supportive. Now,  
he laughed.  
  
"I don't know about you, but I find her quite attractive."  
  
Tucker shook his head, concentrating on pedaling. Malcolm seemed to take  
a perverse delight in playing up the 'red blooded male'  
stereotype sometimes. Tucker wished he wouldn't do it when they were alone.  
But they were in a public place so he could almost predict that Malcolm  
would keep the facade going. If only for the benefit of security  
cameras.  
  
"C'mon Malcolm!" Tucker allowed a small chuckle at the wicked gleam in his  
lover's eyes. "This is serious! What if Phlox finds out?"  
  
They pedaled in silence for a moment, and then Reed looked at him. "You  
haven't done anything to make her think that you'd be..."  
  
"Of course not!" Tucker snapped.  
  
It almost became a flash point. Something cold glimmered in Reed's eyes for  
an instant and Tucker ground his teeth. He wasn't going to get into another  
fight with Reed about side issues. He looked away. "Maybe I should tell the  
doc," he said.  
  
"Tell him what? That his wife's trying to seduce you?" Malcolm laughed. "Not  
a good idea."  
  
"I've gotta spend the next two days with her, workin' on the microscope,"  
Tucker said. He let go the handlebars and folded his arms across his chest.  
Malcolm was not being much help. "I really think I should speak  
to Phlox." He voiced his thoughts aloud and Malcolm shook his head.  
  
"It might be a lot easier to avoid her advances than to get Phlox angry. I  
once saw him lose his temper when one of his creatures bit him." Reed  
laughed. "Not a pretty sight!"  
  
"It might be a whole lot easier to _ignore_ her advances if you'd..."  
  
Tucker bit off the end of the sentence, but it was too late. Malcolm's head  
snapped around and their eyes met.  
  
Reed frowned. "If I'd what?"  
  
"Well ya gotta admit, it's been a while," Tucker said.  
  
Reed snorted and looked away, tacitly dropping the subject.  
  
"Don't do that, Malcolm." Tucker stopped pedaling and stared at his lover.  
"Don't just turn away and act like I never said anythin'."  
  
Reed cast him a fleeting glance. "It's not really the kind of thing we can  
discuss here." He glanced towards the door. "What if someone should come  
in?"  
  
I don't care if anyone comes in!" Tucker got off the bike and stood next to  
Malcolm. "I need you, Malcolm," he said in an undertone. "I've done  
everythin' I can to avoid her, I _tried_ not bein` alone with her...she  
didn't seem t'notice. Dammit Malcolm, she was playin footsie with me ... in  
the _mess_! I'm only human."  
  
Reed stopped pedaling and looked into his eyes. "Are you saying you ...  
that you'd..."  
  
"NO!" Tucker leaned in close to Malcolm's face. "That's not what I'm sayin'!  
What I'm sayin' is I _need_ you! I can't go on like this...I..."  
  
"You need me ... so you can avoid sleeping with Feezal?"  
  
Tucker groaned and clapped a hand to his forehead as he turned away. "You  
know what, just forget it," He said. "I'm gonna talk to Phlox." He walked  
out of the gym without another glance at his lover.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when Hoshi mother hens and dishes out advice to her crewmates.  
> She may be younger than most of them, but she is often wise beyond her years.

Commander Charles Tucker lay on his bunk in the seclusion of his quarters and stared hard at the stars outside the view port. He'd been watching them for more than an hour, ignoring his stomach's loud demands for food. He huffed a breath and blinked. The constant motion of the stars as Enterprise orbited the planet was hypnotic and he felt a little sleepy, but he didn't want to sleep. What he wanted, was to be free to move about the ship without having to worry about being pounced on by Feezal Phlox. What he wanted, was to lie in the arms of his lover tonight and forget the rest of the ship, the rest of the damn galaxy for that matter. What he wanted, was to just erase the past few weeks and go back to life as it was _before_ he met Kaitaama.  
  
Trip rolled onto his back and flung one arm across his burning eyes. "Dammit," he muttered to the empty room.  
  
The sound of the door chime almost sent him diving for cover. He winced and glanced towards the door. Tucker bit his lip. If he called out to ask who was there, he'd give away the fact he was inside. If it was Feezal... He sighed and sat up, staring at the door as though it might fly off its tracks and bite him. If it was Malcolm, his lover would think that Trip was ignoring him. "Shit," he whispered. He got up and walked over to the door and hit the com. "Who's there?" He wished his voice didn't sound so shaky, like he was expecting it to be something nasty.  
  
"Hoshi," came the response. "Can I come in?"  
  
Tucker opened the door. "I thought you went planet side," he said.

Hoshi was dressed in mufti clothing. She carried a tray with a covered platter on it. Trip's stomach voiced its approval so loudly that he knew she must have heard.  
  
"That was hours ago," Hoshi replied. She held the tray out to him.  
  
"Thanks," he took the tray and waved her inside. "So, what brings you here?"  
  
"Travis told me you didn't go to see the movie." Hoshi turned to look at him as she settled in a chair. "I thought _The Black Cat_ was one of your favorites?"  
  
"It is." Tucker sat and lifted the cover off the plate. His mouth watered at the sight, and smell of steak with mashed potatoes. "This is great!" He picked up a knife and fork and began to eat with relish.  
  
"So... why’d you miss it?"  
  
He stopped mid-chew and looked at her. Swallowing the mouthful of food, he sighed. "Feezal."  
  
"Oh?" Hoshi looked askance. "What about Feezal?"  
  
"She's been comin' on to me. I thought that woulda been obvious in the mess hall earlier?"  
  
"Oh!" Realization dawned and Hoshi chuckled. "So that's what that was about!"  
  
"It's not funny, Hoshi!" Tucker was heartily sick of the attitude of everyone else towards his discomfort with Feezal Phlox. "She's married and I'm..." He paused. "I'm in enough shit as it is, without this."  
  
Hoshi sobered at his tone and met his eyes levelly. "I'm sorry," her tone was genuine. "D'you wanna talk?"  
  
He pondered whether he should tell her the whole sorry story. Hoshi knew that he and Malcolm were having problems, but up ‘til now, he hadn't told her everything, only that their relationship had hit a rough spot, and they were having trouble working it out. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Hoshi, if I tell you what's goin' on with Malcolm and I, you gotta swear you won't let it go any further."  
  
"Of course." Her dark eyes widened at the seriousness of his tone. "I swear."  
  
Tucker nodded and laid down his knife and fork. He turned his chair to face her. "Remember a few weeks ago, when we met those guys who wanted me to fix that stasis pod? The one with the princess..."  
  
"Kaitaama," Hoshi nodded. "I remember that."  
  
Tucker ducked his head and sighed. "I wish I hadn't ever gone over there to fix that pod." He looked up and met her eyes and began the whole story from the beginning.  
  
Hoshi listened in silence for the most part. Once in a while she offered a comment, or asked questions to clarify. Tucker found himself thinking that she was a really good listener, and he began to understand why Travis spent so much time with the linguist.  
  
"And then I completely screwed up with Malcolm _again_ today. I just can't seem to say or do anythin' right by him lately." He shook his head. "I don't know what to do."  
  
"How did you screw up today?" Hoshi was frowning at him.  
  
Tucker felt about two inches tall as he recounted the scene in the gym.  
  
"Are you serious?" Hoshi shook her head. "I can't believe you said something like that!"  
  
"I said it."  
  
"You're always going on about what a perfect gentleman you are? You're no gentleman, sir. You've acted like a cad!"  
  
"Ow!" Tucker looked into her eyes for a moment, and then he relented with a sigh. "Yeah. I guess you're right."  
  
"Look, you care about Malcolm, don't you?"  
  
"Of course I do! I _love_ Malcolm more than ... more than anyone or anythin' in my life before!"  
  
"Then prove it to him!"  
  
"Pardon me. I thought that’s what I was _tryin'_ to do?"  
  
With a laugh, Hoshi shook her head. "You might think that's what you're doing, but, trust me. You're not getting it."  
  
"Okay, so what would you suggest?" Tucker gave her his full attention.  
  
"Malcolm has lost his trust in you. You told me he said that. That's the most important thing you must work on, getting that trust back, and you know it's not going to be easy." She smiled. "Telling him that another woman is making advances on you, and then asking him for sex in the same sentence?" Hoshi winced. "Not a smart move, Commander."  
  
"You can call me Trip," Tucker said. "The rank thing is kinda weird under the circumstances."  
  
"Okay," she nodded. "Tell Malcolm you want him for himself."  
  
"That's easy for you to say. I want to tell him that. I _meant_ to tell him that – and then those eyes are on me, and I get tongue tied and nervous and I mess it up." He sighed and scrubbed at his hair with both hands. "But I gotta do somethin' I'm goin' nuts worryin' that he's gonna just give up on me."  
  
"So tell him in a way that his eyes aren't on you." Hoshi rolled her eyes at him. "Don't guys _ever_ write notes? Letters? Send cards?"  
  
Tucker's head snapped up. "Malcolm does! When I was still dancin' around the issue of whether to ask him out or not..." he smiled, and his eyes took on a soft gleam. "I started gettin' these anonymous messages. They'd show up on my console in engineerin, or on my message bank." Tucker laughed. "Yeah, guys send notes."  
  
"For an engineer, and supposedly Starfleet's best? You're incredibly thick sometimes, Comm...er, Trip." Hoshi grinned and stood up. "It's getting late. I have an early shift tomorrow."  
  
Getting to his feet, Tucker showed her to the door. "Thanks," he said softly. "For dinner, and for listenin to me."  
  
"Don't mention it." Hoshi hesitated a moment, and then she gave him a hug. "Someone had to give you a clue."  
  
Tucker held her for a moment, and then stepped back. "I appreciate it." He did. More than he could find words to express. "G'night," he said as he pressed the control to open the door and let her out.  
  
"See you tomorrow," Hoshi replied. She stepped into the corridor and was obscured as the door slid shut behind her.  
  
  
#  
  
  
Malcolm Reed was sleepless again. He set aside the padd he’d been attempting to read for the past two hours and stared up at the ceiling. A half-eaten sandwich on a plate, on his desk, accompanied by a cold cup of tea and rumpled bedclothes on his bunk told the story of an evening of quiet misery. He drew a breath and scrubbed at his face with one hand.  
  
He had begun to think, since their discussion two nights ago, that he and Trip could possibly find a way to work things out. Then Feezal Phlox came along to remind Malcolm of just how much of a fool he could be when he let his heart rule his head. Tucker hadn't changed. He didn't even seem to realize how much his words in the gym that morning had hurt. Malcolm stood up and reached for the comm button. "Reed to Captain Archer," he said.  
  
"Archer here, Something I can do for you, Malcolm?" No mention of the lateness of his call, no sound of censure in the captain's tone. Reed sighed. "D'you think I could come and see you, sir? I... have something I'd like to discuss with you."  
  
There was a brief pause, and Reed almost had second thoughts. He was about to apologize and tell the captain not to worry about it, when Archer replied.  
  
"What if I come to you? I was walking Porthos. I'm not far away."  
  
"Thank you, captain. That would be fine."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They say that human spirits are at their lowest between the hours of midnight to dawn.  
> In medical circles this is known as the 'deathwatch' with good reason. You're most likely to see ghosts, have patients die...
> 
> AND to make stupid mistakes during these hours.
> 
> * * *

  
Captain Jonathan Archer walked along the corridor, listening to the muted,  
rapid fire clicks of Porthos' claws on the deck plating at his heels. He  
sighed. Here he was, living his father's dream, Captain of the first warp  
five Starship to venture into deep space, exploring new  
worlds and civilizations, seeking out new experiences. He was learning about  
more new cultures in a week, than most Earth dwelling humans could hope to  
find out about in a lifetime. It was not only his father's dream; it was and  
always had been, his own. He should feel fulfilled, satisfied. He didn't. He  
felt... empty, alone. Jonathan Archer was lonely.  
  
He glanced down at the beagle pup and clicked his tongue. Porthos looked up  
at him and wagged his tail before dropping his nose to the deck plating  
again, tracking some unknown scent as they strolled. Jonathan smiled and  
nodded. Porthos had a simple life. Food, sleep and exercise, the companionship  
of his master, and that was enough. The enormity of their mission was lost on the  
dog. He seemed happy.  
  
Jon shook his head and squared his shoulders, mentally  
berating himself for being dissatisfied. He had to learn to take a simpler  
approach to things. Look at things from a positive standpoint. He nodded a  
silent acknowledgement of his own orders to himself and walked on with a firmer tread.  
  
A tone from the comm system and Reed’s voice asking if he could meet with the captain.  
Something in the lieutenant’s tone told Archer that this wasn't the run of  
the mill weapons upgrades or rostering question. There was a vulnerability,  
a softer edge, a roughened burr. Jonathan mentally asked himself exactly  
when he had begun to analyze Reed's moods by his manner of speech or his  
posture. He couldn't remember. He only knew that he'd learned to see beneath  
the surface of the seemingly buttoned-down lieutenant and know that  
there was far more there than met the eye. He glanced along the corridor,  
calculating how long it would take him to get back to his cabin. He  
estimated that Malcolm would get there before he would, and, unwilling  
to make Reed wait, he asked if he could meet Malcolm at his cabin.  
  
When Malcolm greeted him at the door, Archer knew he'd made the right  
decision. Malcolm looked done in. Weariness etched his features, and  
the mussed hair and red rimmed eyes told their own story. Archer frowned.  
  
"Malcolm?"  
  
Reed glanced over his shoulder and then met the captain's eyes. He shifted  
his weight from one foot to the other. "Thank you for coming, sir."

Archer wondered why Malcolm was so ill at ease. His attitude was markedly  
different from when they’d had lunch a few days earlier.  
  
Porthos yipped and Archer glanced down at him, then met Malcolm’s eyes.  
"Would you care to join Porthos and I for the rest of our walk?"

“I’d like that.” Malcolm stepped into the corridor and sealed his cabin.  
  
The swiftness of Reed’s acceptance made Archer think he  
was right in assuming that Malcolm was uncomfortable with asking him  
in. "We'd be glad of the company."  
  
Reed fell in alongside him, and they walked in silence for a few  
minutes. Archer waited. He knew Malcolm well enough to  
know the man would speak when he was ready. One of the things he had always  
loved about Reed was the way that the man seemed to weigh every word  
before he spoke.  
  
Archer pulled his thoughts up with a hitch. Loved?  
had he ever used that word in connection with Reed before? He didn't think  
he had. Not that it was a bad thing. _I **do** love the way Malcolm weighs his words  
before he speaks._ A small grin touched his lips, and he turned his attention to  
Porthos to hide it.  
  
"Good boy," he murmured to the dog.  
  
Reed glanced at him and their eyes met for an instant before Malcolm looked  
away. "Sir, do you think we could go somewhere a little more private?"  
  
"I think the observation deck is usually free at this time of night."  
  
A nod from Reed.  
  
They made their way to the small lounge and sat on one of the sofas  
provided for crew members who wanted to 'observe the stars.' Archer patted the  
seat, inviting Porthos up.  
  
The dog settled himself between them with his head and forepaws on  
Malcolm's lap. It was odd, Jon mused, how animals seemed to know when  
someone needed comforting. He smiled, watching as the beagle licked Reed's hand.  
  
"You said you wanted to talk to me about something?"  
  
Reed nodded. "Yes." He absently played with Porthos' soft ears as he spoke,  
not meeting the captain's eyes. "I suppose you already know it's about  
Trip."  
  
"I had a fair idea." Archer reached to scratch Porthos between the  
shoulders, his fingers close to Reed's but never touching. "What's  
happened?"  
  
The sigh from Reed was so low, and so heartfelt that Archer almost  
flinched. He looked at Malcolm, studying the set of his shoulders, the small  
frown between his brows and he suddenly had the urge to find  
Tucker and kick his sorry ass. I warned him I'd kill him if he hurt Malcolm  
again, he thought. He stayed where he was, waiting for Reed to speak.  
  
"I don't know why I bother with him you know?" Reed's voice was low, barely  
more than a rough whisper. "Every time I think I have finally  
worked him out, he reveals some deeper level of..." He trailed off, blinking  
rapidly and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.  
  
"Captain, I don't know how I am going to say this... I need time away. I  
don't know how long, I need to put some distance between Trip and I. I  
need to be able to think, and I can't do that here."  
  
"Malcolm..." Archer leaned forward.  
  
"I'm not resigning, sir." Reed met his eyes. "I just think if I could... I  
can't watch him, I can't..." Reed bowed his head and despite the enormous  
struggle for control evident in his tense posture and ragged  
breathing, a harsh, wrenching sob tore from his tightly pursed lips.  
  
Archer could restrain himself no longer. He let the hand that had been  
resting on Porthos' back move a fraction of an inch until his fingers  
lightly grazed the back of Malcolm's hand.  
  
Malcolm didn't pull away.  
  
Archer drew him closer, gently nudging Porthos out of the way.  
"I'm so sorry, Malcolm." Jonathan tightened his grip on Reed's hand.  
He stared at the younger man, his heart aching for the hurt that could  
bring the usually tightly controlled emotions boiling to the surface.  
He reached out to touch Reed's cheek and caught his breath on a gasp  
when Malcolm leaned into the touch, and then rested his head on Archer’s  
arm against the back of the sofa. It was more than he would have dared to  
hope for. Jon closed his eyes, pulled Malcolm into a hug, and without thinking,  
brushed his lips across the younger man's forehead.  
  
Neither of them heard the doors to the observation lounge slide open and  
just as quickly close again.  
  
Malcolm tensed at the touch of warm lips on his forehead. Suddenly  
collecting himself, he pushed away from the captain. "Sir,  
I..."  
  
"Malcolm," Archer licked his lips and shook his head "I'm s..."  
  
"Don't..." Malcolm stood up. "I think I should leave." He cast the  
captain a glance. His eyes clouded with confusion. "I... Good night,  
Captain."  
  
"Malcolm, please don't leave like this. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done  
that. I..." Archer got to his feet. "I apologize."  
  
Reed shook his head. "It's all right, I'll be fine uhm... if you wouldn't  
mind considering my request..." he took a step towards the door and cast the  
captain another bemused glance before he left.  
  
  
  
#  
  
  
Tucker's world had crashed.  
  
As easily as opening a door and stepping into a room. The world had tilted.  
If felt as though the deck beneath his feet tilted as his mind lurched away from a  
sight that burned itself onto his mind. Malcolm in the arms of Jonathan Archer.  
Jon's lips pressed to Malcolm's forehead. Malcolm unresisting, leaning into the embrace.  
  
His lover, and his best friend.  
  
He stood frozen for a moment, and then, somehow he found the ability to move, spun on a heel  
and fled, leaving them alone in the moment. Tucker breathed raggedly. He trembled from head  
to foot. He kept control only by force of a stubborn will that had seen him through many a night  
in engineering, wrestling with systems that wouldn't work right. The commander made his way to  
his cabin and locked the door.  
  
Closing his eyes he drew a deep breath and let it out. As he moved to the bed, his eyes fell on a  
framed photograph of himself with Malcolm on shore leave on some planet he couldn't even remember  
the name of.  
  
Malcolm, smiling, leaning against Trip's back, his hands loosely clasped across Tucker's chest. Tucker's  
eyes laughing into the camera lens.  
  
Trip picked the photograph up and slammed it against a bulkhead repeatedly until  
the screen fragmented. Not satisfied, flung it to the floor and ground it under his heel  
before he sank down on his bed.  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Starfleet vessels have standing orders to divert and render assistance when they encounter a distress signal.  
> I fail to understand why, when this almost never ends well... :-x
> 
> * * *

The bridge of Enterprise NX-01 hummed with quiet industry. Reed monitored his   
sensors and weapons arrays with his usual eye for detail and accuracy. Hoshi, her   
face a study in concentration, was working on updating the Universal Translator.   
T'Pol was absent, having stepped out to see to some small administrative concern,   
and Travis Mayweather's hands danced nimbly over the helm controls.  
  
It was not a demanding sector. Two crewmen occupied the situation room.   
Archer recognized them as engineering staff and his brow creased. Tucker   
hadn't been to the bridge the last couple of days. Not so long ago, the engineer   
would have been looking for excuses to come and stand at Malcolm's shoulder.   
The captain glanced across to Reed whose eyes were fixed steadily downward,   
gazing at his workstation in total absorption.  
  
Since the night in the observation lounge, Reed had not spoken to Archer  
except in the course of duty. He would barely meet the captain's eyes,  
and when he did, the familiar reserved distance was firmly in place.  
Archer pushed to his feet, attracting glances from each of the three bridge  
officers. He nodded and smiled then walked into his ready room.  
  
Archer picked up a padd and began to scan its contents, soon losing himself in a  
detailed, but less than gripping account of the previous night in  
Engineering. It wasn't the most dramatic reading material, but  
his mind was free to wander a little as he scanned the text.  
  
He had way overstepped the boundaries with his actions in the  
observation lounge, and he knew it. Malcolm was a subordinate, and a junior  
officer at that. True, he was the head of security, but he was only  
a Lieutenant in rank, and both his rank and his position put him off limits  
to the captain. He was borderline off limits to Tucker for that matter. That  
was the other problem. Jon hated himself for trying to muscle in on his best friend’s   
lover. It sickened him to think that he’d made a move on someone who was obviously   
confused, and if not on the rebound, then at the very least unable to rationally consider   
a relationship with anyone.  
  
The captain rubbed a palm across his face. The worst thing was, he didn't  
know what to do about it. The one person he would normally have asked for  
advice was the last person he could talk to in this instance.  
  
He laid the padd down and moved to the view-port, leaning on the window ledge  
and staring out into space. He supposed he _could_ talk to T'Pol, but he  
quickly dismissed the idea when he imagined the arch look she would give  
him, right before she drew some annoying comparison about how such  
'emotional issues would not arise on a Vulcan vessel.’ Jon muttered a curse  
and pushed away from the window.  
  
The muted beep of the comm distracted him from his thoughts. Thumbing the  
button, he said, "Archer."  
  
"Captain, I'm picking up a distress call," Hoshi responded. "It's coming  
from a small planet about ten thousand kilometers from our current location.  
They're asking for any shipping within range to divert and render  
assistance."  
  
"I'll be right out," Archer said. He closed the comm and walked onto the  
bridge. T'Pol stepped out of the lift at the same moment and he met her eyes  
across the bridge.  
  
The science officer moved to her station without speaking and activated her  
viewer.  
  
"Malcolm?" Archer looked at the lieutenant who was obviously finalizing  
scans.  
  
"There doesn't appear to be anything much in the way of technology," Reed  
replied. "A well-developed communications network, some light industry. I'm  
not detecting anything more than basic defense systems."  
  
"The atmosphere is thinner than that of earth, but it is suitable for  
humans," T'Pol added.  
  
Archer nodded and moved to his chair. "Are we able to hail them?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Hoshi touched a control to send the standard greeting. After a  
moment, she nodded. "They're responding."  
  
Archer stepped forward as Hoshi activated the view screen. "This  
is Captain Jonathan Archer of the Starship _Enterprise_. We received a  
distress call from your planet. Is there something we can assist you with?"  
  
The alien that appeared on the screen was almost feline in appearance. Green  
almond shaped eyes regarded him impassively from a delicate face  
that reminded Archer of a Siamese cat. It had a mane of white hair swept  
back from its forehead, and even what appeared to be whiskers. After a  
moment the creature spoke in a feminine tone that immediately intrigued the  
captain with its quality.  
  
"I am D'naida of Surrumar," the alien said. Its voice was unusual but  
pleasant, like two, or perhaps three voices talking in unison with a  
harmonious cadence that brought a smile to the captain's lips. "We require  
someone skilled with machinery, to assist us with a malfunctioning water  
purifying plant. It is of vital importance to our world. Water is scarce."  
  
Archer nodded. "We have one of the finest engineers our planet can offer,"  
he replied. "I'm sure he'll be happy to help."  
  
"Most satisfactory." The creature purred. "We welcome you and your fellows   
to visit our world, in the meantime, Captain."  
  
Archer smiled. "We'd be honored."  
  
"It is agreed.” D'naida bowed her head. “We will convey details."  
  
When the communication ended, Archer swung into action. "Travis, prep a  
shuttle-pod. He glanced at Reed. "Lieutenant Reed," he moved to his chair and  
pressed the comm button. "Archer to engineering."  
  
"Hess." Was the response to his call.  
  
Archer frowned. "Lieutenant, is Commander Tucker available?"  
  
"Commander Tucker is taking Gamma shift this week, sir," Hess replied. "He  
went off duty a few hours ago."  
  
The captain raised an eyebrow at the information. Tucker wasn't usually on  
Gamma shift. He nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant," Closing the comm, he glanced  
at Malcolm and stepped towards the lift. Reed got up and followed him.  
Archer decided he'd stop by Tucker's cabin and fill him in on the way. In  
the lift, he glanced at Reed who stood at parade rest, hands behind his back,   
thousand yards stare.  
  
"Meet us in the launch bay," Archer said as he pressed the button for  
E deck.  
  
"Aye, sir.”  
  
Archer made his way to Tucker's quarters deep in thought. Why had Trip  
suddenly changed the rosters? As captain of the ship, Jon looked over  
rosters in advance and knew that Tucker usually left the Gamma shift to Hess  
or Rostov. Both were competent and the engineer had  
often stated that he had no qualms with leaving the late shifts to their  
capable hands. Archer sighed and paused at the door to the commander's  
cabin. He thumbed the chime and waited.  
  
There was no response. Tucker must be sleeping. Archer rang again.  
When the third ring failed to elicit a response, Archer decided to use his  
command codes to override the lock.  
  
The sight that met his eyes brought the captain up short. Tucker stripped  
to skivvies, was sprawled across his bunk, his uniform tossed haphazardly on  
the floor along with socks and boots. The room smelled like it hadn't been  
thoroughly vented in days. The cabin was, frankly, a mess. The captain scowled  
and picked his way to the bed.  
  
"Trip!"  
  
A muffled grunt came from the engineer and he turned his head, burying his  
face deeper into the pillow.  
  
"Commander!" Archer leaned down and shook Tucker's shoulder. "Wake up!"  
  
"Wha?" Tucker stirred sluggishly. "Wha'the fu'..." He stopped and lifted his  
head from the pillow. "I said I din't wan' be disturbed 'less it was an  
emergency," he grumbled.  
  
"Commander Tucker," Archer repeated, "This is an emergency." He shook the  
engineer when it looked like Tucker would subside into sleep again.  
  
"Shit!" Tucker rolled onto his back and sat up, blearily trying to focus on  
the captain. "Sir?"  
  
"You've been drinking." It was a bald statement of fact.  
  
"I'm off-duty," Tucker challenged.  
  
"Trip, I need you for an away mission. Get up and pull  
yourself together."  
  
Tucker scratched his head and made no immediate effort to move. "Can't Hess  
handle it?" He looked up at the captain. "I'm not..."  
  
"No!" Archer's temper was wearing thin. "Hess _can't_ handle it. Pull  
yourself together, Commander, you're joining this away team. That's an  
order."  
  
"Yessir." Tucker's response was more training than alacrity. He scrambled  
off the bunk and made his way to the bathroom. "I just need half an hour,"  
he muttered.  
  
Archer let out an exasperated breath. He didn't have time right now to talk  
to Trip about his attitude. "See Phlox for something to sober you  
up." He spoke the words between gritted teeth. "And get Rostov to pilot you  
to the surface. I don't have time to wait for you!" He pressed his lips  
together in a hard line and left.


	10. Chapter 10

Surrumar was not quite a desert planet. The air was warm, but not as dry  
as some of the planets Enterprise had visited on their mission. The area  
where the shuttle-pod set down was well watered and surrounded by vegetation  
which resembled palm trees of Earth. The captain glanced around as he  
stepped out of the shuttle-pod. A group of aliens waited to greet them at the  
side of the landing bay and he smiled as he led his small party towards  
them. T'Pol walked at his side, and Reed took his place slightly behind the  
captain on his right.  
  
D'Naida stepped forward, holding up a hand, palm outwards to him. Archer,  
unsure what was required raised a hand. D'Naida, pressed her palm to his  
and then bowed her head. "Welcome to Surrumar, Captain Archer."  
  
"Thank you," Archer indicated the others. "My science officer, Sub-commander  
T'Pol and my tactical officer, Lieutenant Reed. Commander Tucker, our  
engineer will join us soon."  
  
D'Naida greeted T'Pol with a nod. "You are Vulcan," she stated simply.  
  
"Yes." The sub-commander raised an eyebrow.  
  
"We have heard of your race," D'Naida said. "You, however, are the first of  
your species to visit Surrumar."  
  
Turning her attention to Reed, D'Naida approached him and held out her hand  
as she had with Archer. Reed hesitated a moment and then pressed his palm to  
the alien woman's.  
  
Watching them, Archer frowned. Malcolm sucked in a sharp breath at the  
contact and his eyes went wide. The captain took a half step towards them,  
but another alien stepped forward.  
  
"Your fellow is in no danger," he said. "Do not intervene."  
  
Archer cast the alien a dubious glance but stood his ground. He turned to  
look at Reed who trembled from head to foot, his eyes  
welling with unshed tears. D'Naida crooned unintelligible words.  
  
Although Archer could not understand the language, the tone was one of  
reassurance and he decided it would be best to leave them alone rather than  
jeopardize their first contact with this race.  
  
Malcolm's eyes were locked with D'Naida's and he nodded, "Yes," he murmured  
and after a pause, "No..."  
  
Archer frowned and glanced to T'Pol who merely raised an eyebrow and tilted  
her head in a manner that bespoke her puzzlement.  
  
"I accept," Reed said.  
  
D'Naida broke the contact. She steadied Reed who stumbled slightly as her  
hand left his and then she glanced to Archer. "Forgive me, Captain," she said   
in that unusual harmonious voice. She did not offer any explanation of her actions, but   
gestured for the away team to follow her.  
  
Archer hung back a little until Reed came up beside him. "Are you all  
right?"  
  
Reed nodded, "Yes, sir." His eyes held a vaguely unfocused expression but  
he met the captain's eyes as he added. "I'm fine."  
  
"What was that about?" Archer pursued. "You appeared to be having a  
conversation?"  
  
"Was I?" Reed smiled slightly. "I... don't remember."  
  
Archer frowned in concern but he didn't press any further.  
He glanced at D'Naida and then to T'Pol as they followed the alien female  
into a large, open hall.  
  
"We will eat," D'Naida said. She gestured to a long table at one end of the  
hall. "The Surrumaran are renowned for hospitality." She turned to Archer and  
smiled.  
  
"We'd like that," Archer said. At his side, Reed nodded his agreement.  
  
  
They were still enjoying Surrumaran hospitality when Tucker arrived with  
Rostov about forty-five minutes later. D'Naida rose from her place at the  
table and moved to greet the newcomers, repeating the hand touching that she  
had greeted Archer and Reed with.  
  
Tucker looked more alert than he had when Archer last saw him. His eyes were  
clear and he appeared sober. He approached the table with D'Naida, who guided  
him to a seat at Malcolm's left.  
  
D'Naida looked at Archer as she resumed her seat at the table. "Your fellow  
travelers are welcome to begin their visits whenever you wish, Captain,"  
she told him. "Our initial encounters have reassured us that we need expect  
no harm from your species."  
  
Archer nodded. "Thank you, I'll let them know."  
  
"Lieutenant Reed," D'Naida went on. "All is ready. If you would follow me?"  
She rose, and Malcolm nodded and stood up.  
  
Archer looked quickly from Reed to D'Naida and back. "Malcolm?" He got to  
his feet and stepped in front of Reed.  
  
"Captain, I assure you, there is no cause for alarm," D'Naida moved to his  
side.  
  
"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind, explaining to me exactly what's going on?"  
Archer met her green eyes with a puzzled frown. "What did you do to him when  
we arrived?"  
  
"Do?" D'Naida frowned. "I offered him a place to rest." D'Naida held out a  
hand to Reed. "Since you so kindly offered us assistance, we would like to  
reciprocate in this manner."  
  
"Wait a minute..." Tucker said and got to his feet.  
  
"Trip." Archer shook his head slightly. He turned to D'Naida. "All right,"  
he said with a nod. "I... guess we're not accustomed to your ways." The  
captain turned to Reed. "Malcolm?"  
  
"It's all right, sir." Reed nodded. "D'Naida did offer me somewhere to rest  
when we arrived. I had forgotten."  
  
Archer nodded and stood aside. "All right, I don't see any harm in that," he  
said.  
  
D'Naida left the room with Reed at her side, and their departure seemed to  
be a signal for the others. One of the males stepped to Tucker's side. "If  
you would follow me, Commander, I will show you to the malfunctioning  
purification plant.”  
  
Tucker nodded and he and Rostov followed the alien.  
  
When they had gone, Archer turned to T'Pol. "What do you make of all this?"  
  
T'Pol met his eyes. "It is an unusual situation," she said. "But I  
see no reason for concern. The Surrumaran have acted civilly."  
  
"Civilly?" Archer shook his head with a frown. "Arranging things without our  
knowledge? That... whatever it was she did with Malcolm?"  
  
"A form of touch telepathy, I believe," T'Pol replied. "You have arranged  
for guests to rest on board Enterprise in the past. You did not intend to  
harm them. Why would you assume that the Surrumaran are any different?"  
  
Archer conceded the point with a sigh. "Let's hope you're right," he said.  
  
"You speak of being explorers open to new experiences," T'Pol said softly  
as one of the Surrumaran females approached. "Yet your customary response to  
those experiences is suspicion. You would do well to learn to withhold  
judgement until you have reason to pass it."  
  
Jon was about to retort but was forestalled from replying as the female  
came to stand in front of them. "Your accommodations are prepared."  
  
As they followed the alien woman out of the hall, Jon sighed. He hoped he  
had done the right thing in allowing these aliens to split up the away team as  
they had. Still, perhaps T'Pol was right. Maybe he needed to give the  
Surrumaran the benefit of the doubt.


	11. Chapter 11

Lips, warm and tender caressed his mouth and a tongue slid against his own.  
He groaned with desire and pressed closer to the heated body of his lover.  
How he had wanted this, needed it. The lust rose to fever  
pitch as the lips moved away from his mouth to burn a trail of kisses down  
his neck to his bare chest. He shuddered and called his lovers name.  
  
"Charles!"  
  
"I'm here, Darlin'. I'm right here." Gentle hands stroked his skin, soothing  
him. He arched into the touch, craving more. Shuddering with delight as lips  
and teeth teased his nipples. He groaned and...  
  
Woke with a start.  
  
"Trip?"  
  
Malcolm sat up looking around at the unfamiliar room.

Large and airy, with huge windows draped by billowing, curtains in some  
sheer fabric. He sat on a bed covered with soft furs. Malcolm frowned trying  
to remember where he was. An impression of deep green, almond shaped eyes  
flashed across his mind and was gone, but he remembered. "D'Naida brought me  
here," he said. The memory was vague. Everything had seemed vague since she  
touched his hand in greeting.  
  
Reed rubbed his temples with both hands. Why couldn't he remember? Something had   
happened when she touched him, a sense of intimate knowledge  
in that moment he felt he knew all there was to know about D'Naida and she  
knew everything about him. Try as he might though, he couldn't recall any of  
it.  
  
He remembered her voice, speaking in a language he didn't know,  
and yet he could understand. Inside his mind.  
  
Frowning in concentration he struggled to remember what she had said.  
  
After a moment he gave up with a shake of his head. "I should  
go back," he murmured. "The captain will..."  
  
He looked up sharply as his peripheral vision caught a flicker of movement.  
  
"Hello?" He could have sworn someone was standing there beside him an  
instant before, but there was no one there.  
  
"D'Naida?" There was no answer.  
  
Reed got off the bed and began to explore his surroundings. He felt a vague  
sense of unease, but he couldn't think why. An uncomfortable sense that he’d   
forgotten something important. Reed frowned and moved towards a doorway.   
His stomach growled, and he was thirsty. He wondered if he could  
find some water.  
  
#  
  
Charles Tucker fixed his attention on the components he worked on. He  
held a circuit probe in one hand and made adjustments to the small part with his  
usual dexterity, but his mind was occupied elsewhere.  
  
Nothing about this situation felt right. He sighed and laid down the probe,  
exchanging it for a sonic wrench. For  
one thing, the problem with the water purifying plant wasn't that complex.  
Tucker felt that these aliens had the tools and resources to fix it for  
themselves. He shook his head at a muted tone from the aligning tool he was  
holding which told him the adjustment was made.  
  
And then there was the way they'd just taken Malcolm away. _The captain just  
let 'em take him,_ Tucker thought. He set down the component and gazed into  
the distance. Resting his eyes from the strain of close work. They hadn't heard anything   
from Malcolm, and he had left that dining hall hours ago. Tucker scowled. He didn't like   
this. Not one bit, but what could he do? He was here to repair this damned machine and   
the captain was... well who knew where the captain was.  
  
"Commander?"  
  
Tucker glanced at Rostov, pulling his thoughts back to the present with an  
effort.  
  
"What is it, Mike?"  
  
"I was wondering if there's anything else you need me to do? I've finished  
those recalibrations you wanted and..."  
  
Tucker smiled and nodded. "This isn't that hard," he said. "There's a whole  
planet out there waitin' fer ya to take a look at. Go get some R'n'R I can  
handle things here."  
  
"Thanks, Commander," The crewman grinned and headed out to explore.  
  


Trip considered calling him back, uneasy about  
being left alone, but he dismissed the thought with a shake of his head.  
There was no reason to be antsy, he told himself. Picking up the part and his tools, he   
bent over his work and activated the circuit probe.  
  
A flicker of movement made him glance up. "Rostov?"  
  
No one was there, and there was no reply. Tucker shook his head. "I need to  
get this done and take a little time off myself," he murmured.  
  
  
#  
  
Malcolm walked into a room furnished with a table and two chairs.  
Thick carpet covered the floor and an appetizing aroma filled the air.   
He stared at the food arrayed on the table and his stomach growled in  
anticipation. He had forgotten how hungry he was until the sight and smell  
of food reminded him. Moving to the table, he sat down and picked up a glass  
of some bluish liquid. After an investigative sniff, he sipped the beverage.  
It was sweet and refreshing with a hint of pineapple and something else he  
couldn't identify.  
  
He drained the glass.  
  
Next, he turned his attention to the food. Everything looked and smelled  
fabulous. He began to select from the variety of meats  
and vegetables. Food had never seemed such a good idea until this moment. He  
put a slice of meat into his mouth, using his fingers in the absence of a  
knife and fork.  
  
A glimmer of light caught his eye and Malcolm turned to see what had caused  
it. He frowned at the gleaming knife and fork that lay to his left on the  
table. He was certain the cutlery had not been there before.  
  
 _Perhaps they were_ , and _I didn't notice..._  
  
With a shrug, he picked them up and began to eat.


	12. Chapter 12

As time wore on, Malcolm became increasingly uneasy. The rooms he had been  
allotted were comfortable. Everything he could think of needing was provided  
without him needing to ask. In fact, it had dawned on him fairly quickly, that  
anything he wanted would be provided the moment he thought of it.  
  
It had started with the knife and fork the night before. Then a book later  
in the evening when he'd thought that reading for a while before he slept  
would be nice. Pajamas had appeared when he thought of a shower and  
turning in for the night.  
  
The morning brought him a data-pad with news items and other interesting  
reading.  
  
Reed didn't know how it worked, but at first he'd been intrigued with the  
novelty of it and found himself thinking of all manner of  
items, which appeared out of nowhere and vanished once he lost interest  
in them.  
  
The novelty of that game had worn off though, and now he just wished he  
could have someone to talk to, or that he could return  
to his crewmates. Neither of those desires were met, however and no one had  
come near him since D'Naida showed him into his rooms the previous day.  
  
He sighed, gazing out of a large window. He couldn't see or hear  
anyone moving about outside, although the weather was fine. He wondered what  
his crewmates were doing, where Trip might be and if the machine they'd  
offered to repair was in working order yet. He wondered if the captain was  
worried about him, and that thought made him remember with a start, that he  
should have checked in every few hours.  
  
"How could I have forgotten?"  
  
Reed turned in search of his clothes. He'd left the communicator in  
hi uniform pocket. A search of the sleeping area, the dining room and a  
small bathroom failed to turn up his uniform, or any of his equipment. He  
was here alone, with no means of contacting the ship or his crewmates and no  
idea how to get out.  
  
#  
  
  
"The repairs are finished, sir," Tucker stood in front of the captain, hands  
clasped behind his back as he reported in. "The job wasn't too tricky, and  
their water purifiers should be fine now."  
  
"Good job, Trip." Archer nodded absently.  
  
He didn't speak for a few moments and Tucker shifted his weight from one  
foot to the other, unsure whether he had been dismissed.  
  
Eventually, the captain looked over his shoulder at him.  
  
"Has Malcolm contacted you?"  
  
"Sir?" Tucker frowned.  
  
"He hasn't checked in with me since yesterday," Archer met Tucker's eyes. "I  
thought he might have called you or..."  
  
"No, he hasn't." Tucker broke the eye contact. "Malcolm hasn't contacted me  
personally in a long time." He looked up and met the captain's eyes again.  
"Of all people I woulda thought _you'd_ be the one he would check in with."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Archer looked genuinely puzzled.

Tucker shook his head. "Nothin'." He paused. "Cap'n, now that the repair work's  
done I was hopin’ to get a little downtime?"  
  
"Sure," Archer gave another absent nod. "The Surrumaran have extended an  
invitation for us to spend a few days here. I don't see why you shouldn't  
take some shore leave."  
  
Tucker nodded. "Thanks..." He took a step towards the door. "Is that all,  
sir?"  
  
Archer didn't reply. Tucker waited a few moments, then shook his head with  
a sigh and walked out of the room.

#

Archer didn't notice when Tucker left. He leaned one hand against  
the window frame and stared out at the landscaped gardens visible from  
his room. The sun shone brightly outside, and he could hear birds and other  
animal life, but the sound of human or Surrumaran voices reached him only rarely.  
The entire inhabited area only seemed to take up a few hundred hectares and the city –  
if he could even call it that – was small.

Malcolm's continued absence troubled him, and the aliens were not very  
helpful. D'Naida had not been seen since she left the dining hall with Reed  
the day before, and any request that the captain made for information about  
Reed was met with polite assurances that the lieutenant was resting, and that  
he was in no danger.  
  
Not that that was at all reassuring. The fact that Reed had not called  
either the ship, Tucker, or himself only added to Archer's  
concern.  
  
T'Pol had returned to the ship early that morning to coordinate shore leave.  
Archer had remained behind, hoping that Malcolm would check  
in. Now that he knew Tucker hadn't heard either, he reached a decision.  
Taking the communicator from his pocket, he flipped it open.  
  
"Archer to Enterprise."  
  
"Bridge here, Captain. Go ahead." Travis Mayweather's voice responded  
immediately.  
  
"Travis, I want to return to the ship," Archer said. "Can you send a  
shuttle-pod down for me please?"  
  
"Aye, Sir, Shuttle-pod 2 is en route with the next shift on leave.  
It should be there in a few minutes."  
  
"Archer out." The captain closed the communicator and walked out of   
his room headed for the landing bay.  
  
#  
  
Charles Tucker strode out into the Surrumaran sunshine and  
paused a moment, pondering where to go. He supposed that other  
members of the crew were taking advantage of the seemingly endless  
hospitality, and he could probably track some of them down if  
he really wanted to. Tucker sighed and shook his head. There was really only  
one crewmember he wanted to find, and he had no idea how to go about doing  
that.  
  
The captain's admission that Reed hadn't checked in alarmed him. Tucker  
had thought that if Reed would call anyone, it would be the captain. Not  
only because Malcolm would never neglect to follow the well-defined rules  
for away missions, but because Archer was more important to Reed than Tucker  
was. Wasn't that obvious? Tucker ground his teeth wishing that for once and  
all he knew what was going on inside Reed's head. He wanted to find his  
lover-ex-lover and ask just where the hell he stood.  
  
Malcolm had to be in the complex somewhere. Tucker headed back  
towards the main entrance.  
  
"Trip!"  
  
Tucker stopped and looked over his shoulder. Hoshi Sato hurried towards him,  
her arms full of packages. Obviously, she'd been indulging her love of shopping  
and Tucker suppressed a grin as she came up to him.  
  
"Hi, Hoshi."  
  
The linguist was smiling all over her face as she stopped next to him. "Hi,"  
she said a little breathlessly. "Isn't this planet great?"  
  
"I don't know... haven't had much time to look around yet," he replied.  
  
"Oh, you have to go see the market!" Hoshi juggled a few packages,  
rearranging them to avoid dropping one. "They don't use money though, they  
trade for..." She trailed off with a grin, "No, on second thoughts you  
should find that out for yourself!" She fixed him with a stern look. "Take  
my advice...get a hold of Malcolm and take him to the restaurants on the  
main street. You _won't_ regret it!"  
  
Tucker chuckled. "If I c'n find him, I might just do that," he said.  
  
"See that you do..." Hoshi said with a grin. "He can't be _that_ hard to  
find. Besides, you need to..." Hoshi blinked as a brilliant flash of light  
dazzled her eyes for a moment. When she was able to focus, Commander Tucker  
had gone.  
  
"Commander?" Hoshi turned in a circle, her packages falling to the ground.  
"Trip?" After a moment, she took a communicator  
from her uniform pocket and flipped it open. "Sato to Enterprise," she said.  
  
Before she received a response, there was another flash of light, and the  
communicator vanished. Hoshi gave a shrill cry of alarm and sprinted  
in the direction of the landing bay, her packages lying forgotten,  
where she had dropped them.


	13. Chapter 13

Hoshi Sato sat on a bio-bed in sickbay looking relieved to be in familiar surroundings. Captain Archer, Phlox and Sub-Commander T'Pol gathered around the bed. Phlox ran a scanner over Sato's head and neck.  
  
"He just... vanished," Sato murmured, looking from the captain to T'Pol and back. "He was standing there one moment, and then there was a flash and he was gone. I don't understand it except... I _did_ see something similar in the market..." Sato frowned.  
  
"What happened?" Archer took a half step forward and put a hand on Sato's shoulder. "Anything you can tell us will help get Trip and Malcolm back."  
  
"The Surrumaran have a... different way of trading," Hoshi said. "They don't use currency."  
  
Archer nodded and glanced sideways at T'Pol. "Go on."  
  
"Well, it started when I asked one of them some questions about their race..." Hoshi pursed her lips. "I thought they looked feline, but they don't have a word for it...he asked me if I could describe a feline, and when I tried, he said he had a better way. He... touched my hand, and asked me to think about felines, and..." She trailed off with a frown.  
  
"Hoshi?" Archer prompted.  
  
"There was a flash… like the one when Commander Tucker vanished, and... there was a cat sitting on the table in front of us. The Surrumaran gave me a bracelet in exchange... and then they all wanted to 'trade'." Hoshi looked into the captain's eyes. "They collect thoughts and impressions, and they can make them real."  
  
Archer's brows drew together in a scowl and he looked at Phlox.  
  
"Have I done something wrong?" Hoshi bit her lip.  
  
"No." Archer offered her a small smile in reassurance. "Doctor, what do you make of this?"  
  
"It's fascinating," Phlox replied. "I'd be interested to study these Surrumaran and find out how they do that." He sobered as he met the captain's eyes. "However, if they have taken Commander Tucker, and Lieutenant Reed, we can't tell what their intentions may be. Both gentlemen possess some...'thoughts and impressions' that it may be best not to allow to fall into... unknown hands. hmm?" He paused a moment, "It is particularly worrisome, since you said that these aliens 'took' Lieutenant Reed immediately after one of them had touched him."  
  
"So you think that the Surrumaran could be planning to... steal information from Malcolm and Trip? To use against us?"  
  
Phlox shook his head and shrugged lightly. "Who can say? They may be looking for tactical information... but if that's the case; surely they'd have taken you as well, Captain?"  
  
Archer turned to T'Pol. "I'm not taking any chances. Have the ship put on tactical alert and... recall all crew from the planet." He paused in thought. "I'm going back down there... I want my officers back."  
  
"Do you think that's wise?" T'Pol raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"I don't know... but I'm going to get Malcolm and Trip back, wise or not."  
  
  


#  
  
  
Tucker paced the confines of the small room. He didn't even know how long he had been here. He'd tried pounding on the door and hollering to be let out. He'd tried rationalizing, talking reasonably and requesting to be let out. He'd run his hands over every inch of wall next to the door, looking for panels or anything he could pull apart to open it. Now, he paced, silently raging against his captivity.  
  
It had happened so fast. One moment he was talking and laughing with Hoshi Sato, and the next instant he felt an all too familiar sense of disorientation, a disconnectedness that lasted a few seconds before he rematerialized. Here. _I thought they didn't have any advanced technology_ , Tucker thought. _Transporters are advanced... even for **us**._  
  
He stopped pacing and looked up at the ceiling of the featureless room. "Hello? Can anyone hear me?" He frowned and shook his head. "Why'm I wastin' my breath? No-one's gonna answer me."  
  
He moved to a corner, sinking down and drew his knees up to his chest. He rested his head and folded arms against them. _I hate bein shut in_. _I gotta get outta here_. Tucker was not claustrophobic; an engineer couldn't afford to be, but his freedom being taken from him deliberately was what bothered him. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. _Think, Trip...there's gotta be a way outta this_.

  
  
#

  
  
Malcolm was heartily tired of confinement. He had to acknowledge now that's what it was. No contact with anyone, no way to reach the ship, and – he had investigated – no way out of what amounted to a very secure prison. He grunted with frustration and went to the windows again. Although they appeared open, he could _feel_ wind against his face, he couldn't get through them. It was maddening. He had tried, and each time he'd come up against an invisible force field.  
  
"So much for my scans." He turned away from the window and paced to the bed. "No advanced technology?" Reed shook his head in frustration. "When will I learn to look beyond the bloody obvious?"  
  
"You are an enigma."  
  
Reed spun around with a start. "D'Naida!" He studied her for a moment, and then walked past her, looking for the entrance she’d used.  
  
"You will not find the doorway." D'Naida turned to track his movement. "You are correct in your suspicion. You are being held here deliberately."  
  
"Why?" He rounded on her. "What crime have I committed?"  
  
"Crime? Is that the only reason that your species would detain someone?" D'Naida smiled and stepped towards him. "You are held at your own behest. You are held for your protection."  
  
"I didn't _ask_ to be kept here!" Reed was quickly losing control of his temper, and he ground his teeth, breathing deeply and fighting to keep himself in check. "And if that's the case, I can also request to be released, can't I? I've made it clear that I don't wish to stay, yet you've not let me go."  
  
"It's not that simple."  
  
"Enlighten me." He let his breath out and moved to sit on the bed, deciding it might be best to play along with her until he could figure a better way."  
  
"Wise choice." D'Naida raised an eyebrow at him. "Do not presume that your thoughts are unknown to us."  
  
Reed sighed and swallowed hard. He waited for her to go on.  
  
"We perceive that you are a danger to yourself, and to others." D'Naida said. "You requested to be separated from your fellows. Three days ago, you made the same request of your Captain and he failed to act on it. We decided to intervene."  
  
Reed leaped to his feet. "How did you know any of that?" He scowled. "How did you ... You compromised our security!"  
  
"Relax, Reed." Amused, D'Naida pushed him down on the bed. "We did not compromise your ship. Our methods are far beyond anything you may understand. You were surprisingly easy to lure here."  
  
"Lure?" Reed frowned and bowed his head. "This entire thing was a trap?"  
  
"Essentially. However, it is not our intention to harm you, or any of your fellows. Our motivation is protection. We wish to protect you, and we wish to protect others _from_ you. As to your ship... your fellows... they are free to go. All of them, except yourself and the engineer."  
  
"Trip?" Reed was on his feet again. "You mean you've got him here somewhere too? I want to see him."  
  
"Impossible! I do not understand why you would even request it!"  
  
"He's my... friend." Reed said. "Is he all right? Have you... if he's been harmed in any way..."  
  
"You wish to protect him..." D'Naida mused. "Odd."  
  
"Humans are protective of their friends," Reed said. "Is that such an alien concept to you?" He brushed past her and moved to the windows.  
  
"Yet a few days ago you wished agonies upon him."  
  
"That's... that was because—"  
  
"We know your history with Tucker." D'Naida shook her head. "You were... your word is... lovers."  
  
"Yes." Reed flinched. The uneasy feeling that she knew him far too intimately returned. He closed his eyes as the pain of all that had happened between himself and Tucker resurfaced. He felt sick to his stomach.  
  
"He caused this..." D'Naida waved a hand at Reed, "Yet you demand to be reunited with him?" her eyes took on a sympathetic light. "You must understand why we cannot allow it."  
  
Reed looked into her eyes. "You misunderstood..." he said in a small, broken voice. "I—"  
  
"I am sorry, Reed. I cannot continue this discussion." D'Naida turned and took a step towards the wall, and an arch opened in front of her.  
  
Malcolm drew a sharp breath and bolted for the opening. He cried out with pain and frustration a forcefield that knocked backward with a charge that sent him reeling to the floor.  
  
He lay there for some time after she left, too stunned and disheartened to move.


	14. Chapter 14

Captain Archer fumed. Almost three days had passed since his armory officer had been spirited away by the Surrumaran, and nearly two since they'd taken Trip. He sat at a table in the 'guest room' the aliens had given him on his return to the planet and brooded.  
  
Jon considered himself a temperate man most of the time, but by now, with the constant brush offs and polite evasion of his questions and demands, the captain was doing a slow burn. With a sigh of frustration he got up and walked to the door of his suite, intending to go in search of D'Naida and demand that she release his men.  
  
"Captain Archer."  
  
Jon spun on his heel, an expression of amazement on his face. D'Naida stood in the middle of the room. She wore a diaphanous gown, through which the silhouette of her form was clearly defined by the backlighting from the windows. She had swept her white hair into a cascade of ringlets, framing her catlike features to perfection. Her almond shaped eyes gleamed and she extended a hand to him in the familiar greeting.  
  
"I apologize for keeping you waiting so long," she said. "I was not on Surrumar... please, sit down; we can talk."  
  
"I'm done with talking!" Archer reached her in three long strides standing face to face with the alien female. "You're holding two of my men. I want them released!"  
  
"I'm afraid that is not possible, Captain."  
  
"Why not? You've had Malcolm for three days. Trip's been here for two. Surely, you've got all the information you want by now. Why are you holding them? Are you planning to steal technology from us? Have you hurt them?"  
  
"Captain Archer, I am a doctor. I am not interested in your... archaic technology." D'Naida moved to a chair and sat down. "Should we so desire, Surrumar has the resources and the technology to replicate your ship and a hundred like her. We are not interested in stealing from you."  
  
Archer turned to her, his brow creased with confusion. "A doctor?"  
  
"A psychologist, I believe you would say." D'Naida gestured to the only other chair in the room. "Please, Captain."  
  
Jon swallowed hard and eased his frame into the chair she indicated.  
  
"You're a doctor? Is Malcolm sick? Is Trip?" Archer frowned. "We have a doctor aboard our ship. If you release my officers, I will make sure they receive treatment."  
  
"Your officers are here due to the failure of your doctor to detect and treat the problem, Captain. They are here because of your negligence. The only reason you are not detained with them, is because we felt that would be detrimental to your crew."  
  
Jon was on his feet, looming over the woman in an instant. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Sit down, Captain Archer." Her voice went cold, with a tone of command even he could not ignore.  
  
"Lieutenant Reed is held here for his own protection, and to protect others from him. In my opinion he represented a danger to Commander Tucker." D'Naida leaned back in her chair. "We felt it necessary to intervene."  
  
"Malcolm is no danger to anyone! Least of all Trip." Archer shook his head. "They're..."  
  
"Is he not?" D'Naida stood up and moved to one side of the room. She waved a hand and a control panel shimmered into view. "Observe," she said quietly as she pressed a few buttons. Part of the wall melted away to reveal two rooms. One large and well appointed, furnished with a fur covered bed on which Malcolm Reed lay staring up at the ceiling.  
  
The other room was smaller. Bare. It didn't even contain a bunk. In one corner, Charles Tucker huddled asleep, his head resting against the wall.  
  
Archer got up and moved to the wall. "Malcolm! Trip!"  
  
"The rooms are shielded, Captain; they cannot hear you."  
  
Archer could only stare helplessly at the men for a moment, then he turned to D'Naida. "You said you wanted me to observe something. How is Malcolm a danger to Trip? He would never hurt him. I know these men. I..." He trailed off as D'Naida held up a hand.  
  
"Your species seems to think that only physical injury constitutes harm." She frowned. "Reed _did_ hurt Tucker." She turned to the console and touched a control. "Reed...Tucker," she said. The men behind the forcefield stirred.  
  
With a wave of her hand, D'Naida directed Archer's attention into the two rooms, but there was a sudden change. Reed sat up on his bed, staring transfixed at the scene which appeared.  
  
Apparently, Tucker saw it too.  
  
Archer drew in his breath as he realized what he was seeing.  
  
"You recognize this incident?"  
  
"Yes..." Archer glanced at D'Naida and then looked away, his eyes drawn to the image of himself sitting with Malcolm on a sofa in the observation lounge aboard Enterprise.  
  
"Observe... and feel." D'Naida stepped back, leaving the three men to watch as the scene unfolded.  
  
"I don't wanna watch this!" Tucker, put his hands to his head and turned in a circle. "D'ya hear me? Make this stop!"  
  
Archer felt his pulse accelerate. He didn't want to watch this either. Especially not with the feelings that suddenly accompanied the scene. Not his own feelings, he realized, but Trip's.  
  
Archer saw himself touch Malcolm's cheek. Watched as Malcolm leaned into the touch, and then, he was pulling Malcolm close, holding him and...  
  
Archer groaned as the doors of the observation lounge slid open and Tucker stood framed in the light from the corridor.  
  
"Oh no..." Archer felt pain, Trip's pain, twist like a knife in his heart. He looked away from the image of Tucker and into the stricken face of the man in the cell. "Trip. You saw... you were there." Archer bowed his head and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Stop it!"  
  
The cry came from Malcolm.  
  
Archer heard the agony in the lieutenant's voice and his own heart pounded in sympathy.  
  
"Stop! Stop!" Malcolm's voice was sharp with anguish. His own and reflected anguish from Tucker.  
  
Archer felt a wave of nausea. "That's enough."  
  
D'Naida nodded and waved her hand. The image of the observation deck faded, and the wall solidified again, blocking the view of the two men in their cells.  
  
"That wasn't Malcolm's fault." Archer sighed and passed a hand across his face. "He wouldn't have intentionally hurt Trip. I'm responsible for what happened that night. Don't punish him for it."

  
#

  
Malcolm stumbled to the bed and sank down as the image faded, but the pain didn't subside. It was as though he could feel Trip's every heartbeat, his every gasping breath of pain as he fled from the observation lounge.  
  
"I didn't know, Trip... I didn't know. God, I would have explained everything."  
  
He understood now, why Tucker had not spoken to him for days before they had come on this mission. He closed his eyes and buried his face into the pillows. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," he gasped. He wouldn't have wished that pain on his lover for anything. Not really. Even though a part of him _had_ wished to hurt Tucker, he wouldn't really want to make his lover suffer that way. After a moment, he lifted his head from the pillows.  
  
"D'Naida!" he shouted. "D'Naida!" But there was no answer. Reed groaned and let his head fall against the pillows once more. "Trip," he whispered into the silence of his prison. "I'm sorry."  
  
  
#  
  
Huddling into a corner of his cell, Tucker buried his face in his hands.  
  
"Why're they doin' this?" Fresh agony welled up from being forced to relive the sight of his lover in the arms of his best friend. But it was worse this time, because, this time he knew he had felt more than his own pain. He had felt his lover's confusion, and Jon's guilt. He shook his head and scrubbed his fingers through his hair and then he looked up. "What kinda sick game is this?" He leaped to his feet. "Ya think this is funny! We're some kinda freak show fer yer amusement?" He went to the door, pounding on it in impotent fury. "Lemme outta here! Lemme out!"  
  
#  
  
"It is enough for today," D'Naida said. "You should return to your ship, Captain. Your officers will not be released. It is for the best. Go on with your mission and leave them here."  
  
"I'm not leaving without them," Archer squared off to her. "Look, I don't know what you hope to accomplish by torturing them like this, but you've got it wrong. Whatever you think. None of this was intentional." He stared into the alien female's almond shaped eyes. "Let Malcolm go. He's the victim. Take me in his place... you don't have to torture him like this."  
  
"I'm sorry, Captain. I cannot do that."  
  
"You _can_!" Archer snarled and took a threatening step towards her. "Let Malcolm..."  
  
Suddenly the world dissolved around him, and he felt as though he was flung through space. He lost contact with himself for an instant, and then, with a sickening impact he hit cold metal deck plating. The captain cried out with pain and rolled onto his side. He was on the bridge aboard _Enterprise_. Meeting T'Pol's startled gaze he closed his eyes with a groan.  
  
"Do you need me to call Doctor Phlox?" T'Pol asked.  
  
"No." Archer composed himself and slowly got to his feet. "I'm... all right." The captain winced and rubbed the small of his back.  
  
"Captain, I'm receiving a message from the surface," Hoshi said. "They're advising us to leave their space immediately."  
  
"Tell them to go to..." Archer bit off the end of the sentence. "Tell them, we're not going anywhere."


	15. Chapter 15

Malcolm Reed lay on his bed in what he had come to think of as his 'gilded cage' and stared into the distance. His eyes were unfocused, and he took little interest in his surroundings. He'd been lying in much the same position since the terrible scene the previous day. Himself in Archer's embrace. _allowing_ the captain to hold him and kiss his forehead.  
  
Trip's pale, stricken face, the hurt in Tucker's eyes, the pain that had ripped through Malcolm's own heart. He didn't know how he had been able to feel Tucker's emotions, but he knew that's what he had felt. He closed his eyes momentarily.  
  
 _I was so quick to accuse him of being heartless, of being unfeeling and shallow._ Reed drew a shaking breath. _I was blinded by my own pain._  
  
"Reed," a gentle voice said.  
  
He didn't move. He didn't care.  
  
"Reed, you did not eat last night or this morning." The voice persisted.  
  
"Not hungry, thank you," he muttered.  
  
"You have not taken any fluid."  
  
"Not thirsty."  
  
"You need to eat and drink."  
  
"Go away."  
  
A hand touched his shoulder and Reed bolted away from the touch, rolling to a crouching position on the floor beside his bed. "Don't touch me! Leave me alone!" He stared into the clouded green eyes of the alien female. "Get out!"  
  
When she didn't move, he lunged at her with a shout of rage. "OUT!"  
  
D'Naida vanished.  
  
Reed slunk back to the bed and lay down. He wondered where Tucker was, and if he was all right. He sighed and closed his eyes. He wanted to be with Trip. He needed to explain to his lover that the observation deck, Archer, all of that. None of it meant anything to him. None of it was worth a thing beside his love for Tucker.

  
  
#

  
  
D'Naida paced her office. One wall of the room was open, showing her two patients in their cells. Reed had returned to his bed and lay there, his eyes closed and his thoughts, which she could hear as clearly as her own, preoccupied with the man who had hurt him so badly that his anger, pain and deadly thoughts had reached her across space more than two weeks ago. She was a doctor of the mind, sworn to intervene in such cases, and yet, this species puzzled her. Never, in all the species she had so far encountered, had she found such devotion to one who had hurt an individual to this extent. Obviously, Reed's condition was more serious than she had first thought. She turned to watch him, her thoughts reeling with confusion and concern.  
  
After a few moments, she turned her attenton to Tucker.  
  
The human lay on the floor of his cell asleep. This one was closer to some of the other species she'd encountered. He divided his time between raging and pounding at the door, demanding to be released and huddling dejectedly in a corner or sleeping. D'Naida watched him for a moment and then she reached a decision. With the touch of a few buttons on a console, Tucker's cell was transformed so that his surroundings resembled Reed's. She saw no reason to be punitive now that she understood he had the capacity for remorse.  
  
Tucker had spent a lot of time during the night, talking aloud about his feelings. Not that D'Naida needed him to, she could read his thoughts just as easily as she could pick up Reed's, but she found it interesting that the man addressed his thoughts, aloud, to Reed as though the other human were present and could hear him. She smiled now, watching as Tucker rolled onto his back on the floor and one hand scratched at his chest.  
  
He was very different to Reed. There was a different aura around him. An openness and candor that she found pleasant. It showed itself in his temper; in his bearing, and yet, she was aware that of the two, Tucker was the more vulnerable. Reed was all coiled strength and reserve. Tucker would break much more easily. D'Naida knew she must handle him carefully or risk doing more harm than good.  
  
"But the method is necessary," she murmured. She moved closer to the forcefield; her serene features touched by pain as she looked into his sleeping face. "It is occasionally necessary to inflict pain in order to heal."  
  
  
It would be time, soon enough for the next phase of her 'treatment.' D'Naida sighed. Before that happened, she must meditate. She touched a control, closing off the view of her patients and sank to the floor.

  
  
#  
  


  
Captain Archer prowled across the bridge. His gaze swept over each crew member in turn and he pressed his lips together in a hard line. The atmosphere in the nerve center of his vessel was tense as everyone picked up on his barely contained anger. He sighed and looked at Hoshi.  
  
"Any progress?"  
  
"They're still not responding to my hails, sir." Hoshi shook her head regretfully. "And the directive for us to leave their space is on repeat."  
  
Archer swung away from her with an exasperated sigh.  
  
"Keep trying." He stalked to the tactical console. It was manned by Ensign Tanner instead of Malcolm. Archer suppressed a sigh. It just wasn't right. He smiled at the man.  
  
"Tanner?"  
  
"Still nothing, sir." Tanner had been attempting to lock onto Tucker and Reed’s bio signs since he started his shift earlier that day. "The complex appears to be shielded against our sensors. I'm doing the best I can, but it's taking a lot of time."  
  
Archer nodded and turned away. Glancing at the Science console, he found T'Pol's eyes on him. The Vulcan regarded him impassively and he shook his head. This whole situation was driving him nuts, but there was little he could do but wait. It maddened him that he couldn't return to the planet and demand the aliens' cooperation, but even he knew that after his last outburst and the Surrumaran reaction, transporting him back to his ship, he was on shaky ground with them. He crossed the bridge to lean on T'Pol's console.  
  
"Any ideas?"  
  
An elegant eyebrow went up, and T'Pol looked at him steadily. Archer smiled slightly and waited, knowing that she would think carefully before she replied.  
  
"Have you considered a more diplomatic approach?"  
  
Archer frowned. "How do you mean?"  
  
"An apology, and an offer to discuss matters more reasonably. Perhaps, an offer to withdraw for a time?"  
  
"You're suggesting that I leave Trip and Malcolm down there?" He stared at her in dumfounded amazement.  
  
"That is one possible solution. A temporary measure, until... things have calmed."  
  
"Until I cool my head, you mean." Archer turned away from her and rubbed his brow with one hand. He knew that his actions the previous day had done little to facilitate a quick resolution of the problem, but he could only cite the tension of the moment. Of course, using that argument with T'Pol wouldn't wash. She’d probably say that he should _read_ the book of Vulcan philosophy she had given him some time ago. He turned to stare at the view screen where Surrumar dominated the view. He would think of a way to get his two best officers back, he told himself. Even if it meant some serious bootlicking.

  
  
#  
  


  
Tucker woke to find himself in unfamiliar, yet decidedly more comfortable surroundings. He spent the first few minutes looking for any possibility of escape. His fingers explored every inch of wall near the windows, searching, even against the evidence of his eyes, for any small irregularity that would mean a panel was hidden in the surface. Of course he'd found none.  
  
Naturally, he expended some energy in throwing himself against the forcefield which resulted in nothing more than a pounding headache from the repeated static shock, but at least he knew the damn thing wasn't going to give and let him through. He explored the bathroom, and the dining room, ignoring the food laid out on the table. He had gulped down some water though.  
  
Defeated, he sat on the bed, absently combing his fingers through the furs and wondering where Malcolm was, and if he was okay.  
  
"Reed...Tucker."  
  
Tucker's blood ran cold. That was exactly what the voice had said the last time. Trip slowly got to his feet, standing beside the bed. His eyes scanned the room as fear clutched at his heart. What were they going to do this time? What new torment would he be subjected to? He swallowed hard and bit his lip.  
  
"Whaddya want?" He wished his voice sounded firmer. He wished he didn't feel so damned scared.  
  
"Observe and feel."  
  
The harmonic voice was impassive. Tucker felt a shudder run through him and then he cried out in anguish as an all too familiar scene came to life in front of his eyes.  
  
"No! no, please! Please don't do this...don't...Malcolm, don't watch..." He stumbled backwards. "Please...please don't do this!"  
  
Tucker closed his eyes, bowing his head as he heard his own words from that fateful day.  
  
 _I'm pretty sure the commoners wouldn't be too upset!_  
  
There was the sound of a scuffle, splashing. Tucker didn't need to look; he knew what happened next. "Please, no..." he groaned.

  
  
#

  
  
It was like watching a shuttlepod crash. It was like, seeing the wreckage of Enterprise, strewn across the face of a cold, dead asteroid. He didn't want to look, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. Malcolm watched, cold with horror and grief as his lover fought with an alien female who was all too familiar.  
  
They scuffled, fell, rolled down a slope into the water.  
  
 _How dare you strike the first monarch!_  
  
 _You're the one who took a swing at me first!_  
  
And then, the woman kissed Tucker.  
  
Malcolm watched as his lover pushed her away and stared at her in mute outrage. For a moment, he hoped...  
  
And then Tucker grabbed Kaitaama and kissed her back; a kiss full of passion and desire, alight with the fire Tucker had always kissed _him_ with.  
  
Malcolm groaned. His heart pounded so hard and fast that he thought it would burst. Pain clawed at him but still he couldn't look away.  
  
He watched as Tucker made love to the woman with all the same tender skill that he showed Malcolm when they were together.  
  
Malcolm went numb all over. His hands clenched into fists so tight that his nails bit into the skin.  
  
"God, Trip...why?"  
  
"Malcolm!" Tucker dropped to his knees as he felt his heart break - Just as Trip understood that Malcolm's heart had broken. He understood everything, and the knowledge threatened to destroy him. "Malcolm!" he sobbed. "Oh God. What have I done?" He bowed his head, defeated.  
  
"Please make it stop," he whispered. "Please...please..." A sob tore from his throat. "You've done enough. You've destroyed everythin' I care about. Please. Please..." Tears fell from his eyes, splashing against his hands and Tucker raised his head. "If ya got any heart at all... just make it stop."


	16. Chapter 16

Captain's star log, supplemental. After five days in orbit of the planet, Surrumar, we're no closer to resolving the crisis concerning my Chief Engineer, Commander Charles Tucker, and my Tactical Officer, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. All attempts to communicate with the planet are ignored and our efforts to break through the planet's shields to scan for our crewmembers have met with little success."  
  
"While I'm mindful to avoid an incident, that could jeopardize the first contact, the safety and well-being of my officers is paramount. Sub-Commander T'Pol, and I will be discussing more forceful measures with the crew this morning."  
  
Jonathan Archer sighed and shook his head. Turning to look out the viewport at the planet. "I don't want to take aggressive action," he said. "But I can't see any alternative. Computer, end log."  
  
On the Bridge, T'Pol stood by her console. She acknowledged the captain's arrival with a small nod when Archer emerged from his ready room. She followed him as he moved towards the situation room.  
  
"Ensign Tanner has located something that could possibly be a shield generator," she said.  
  
Archer stopped and turned to her. "Good." He narrowed his eyes. "Do you think our weapons can disable it?"  
  
T'Pol nodded. "Yes."  
  
Archer looked up at the main view-screen as he took his chair. "Ensign Tanner, bring the phase canons online."  
  
Tanner nodded an acknowledgement, and then he hesitated. "Captain, there's a ship approaching our position..." He ran his hands across the tactical console. "It's Surrumaran, sir."  
  
Archer got to his feet. "On screen."  
  
#  
  
D'Naida stood by the force-field that overlooked the two rooms where her patients were held. Neither of the humans had stirred much this morning. Tucker appeared conscious. He moved his head from time to time and had rolled over once, but his mind was quiet. It was as though all fight had gone out of him. He didn't respond when she called his name. He didn't move when she went to his room and tried to speak to him. She wrung her small hands together, watching him. This was not the expected outcome.  
  
She turned her attention to Reed. His condition concerned her even more than Tucker's. Reed sat on his bed, his eyes unfocused. He rocked back and forth sometimes, but mostly he was abnormally still. D'Naida feared that he was dying, and there was nothing she could do. He would take no food, or water.  
  
The one time that she attempted to speak with him he lashed out at her with a violence that still, made her shudder. One small hand caressed the mark on her left cheek left by the blow he'd dealt her before she managed to teleport out. She had expected rage, hatred and bitterness but she had not expected it to be levelled at herself. Humans were an enigma she could not fathom.  
  
She waved a hand and the wall solidified, shutting off her view of the humans.  
  
Her intention was to help Reed, but all she had succeeded in doing was hurting both humans. She swallowed down the rising nausea and pressed the fingers of one hand to her lips. She must find some way to rectify this before one or both died. "What? What can I do? How can I reach them?"  
  
#  
  
Malcolm Reed didn't care what happened to him. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't even close his eyes for fear the visions would return to haunt him. He sat on his bed and gradually closed in on himself.  
  
At least the sharp pain he felt when he watched Tucker's dismay at finding him in Archer's arms on the observation deck had faded. There was nothing. Just a dull sense of numbness. He prodded at it, the way one pokes at an anesthetized tooth. Nothing. Malcolm blinked slowly and shook his head. Why didn't he feel the hurt?  
  
He frowned. Something told him he should understand. That it was important to work this out, but the answer eluded him.   
  
In the other cell, Tucker rolled over and settled again with a groan. He longed for sleep. He'd been sleeping a lot, but it made no difference. The more he slept the more tired he felt. Still, there wasn't anything else to do. He closed his eyes.  
  
#  
  
On board _Enterprise_ , the captain stood in his ready room, face to face with an elderly male Surrumaran.  
  
The ship that Tanner detected approaching Enterprise was a transport, belonging to Iarin, the superintendent of psychological studies on Surrumar. Iarin was returning from a conference on a nearby planet. When he requested permission to come aboard the captain agreed.  
  
"I thank you for taking the time to meet me, Captain," Iarin said. "I do assure you that I have every intention of aiding you to retrieve the members of your crew who are presently on Surrumar."  
  
Archer nodded and glanced at T'Pol. "I was about to—"  
  
"Yes, we're aware that you were preparing to launch an attack on the planet, Captain," the Surrumaran replied. "However, I think that this can be resolved without resorting to aggression. The Surrumaran are a peaceable race and we have no wish to become embroiled in battle." He sighed. "I am D'Naida's mentor. I am confident she will listen to me and return your crew members to you."  
  
"I hope you're right." Archer turned to T'Pol, "Tell Tanner to stand down from tactical alert and wait for further orders.  
  
With a nod, the Sub-Commander exited the room.  
  
After the doors closed behind the Sub-Commander, Archer looked into Iarin's eyes. "I won't mince words... Doctor?" he hesitated a moment.  
  
Iarin nodded. "That title will suffice."  
  
"Right..." Archer nodded. "I won't mince any words," he repeated. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be to blast my way into that complex and take my men out of there. By force, if need be. We've had nothing but brush offs and insults from your... people. I won't stand for anymore."  
  
"I quite understand, Captain." Iarin sighed and looked towards the doors. "Perhaps, we should continue this discussion on the way to the surface?"  
  
"I don't think you _do_ understand." Archer stepped in front of Iarin, "D'Naida is your subordinate. These men are my _crew_. You're responsible for her work; I'm responsible for _thier_ lives. I agreed to meet you to discuss ways to resolve this without violence, but if you're not completely confident that you can make her cooperate, you'd better stand aside."  
  
"Captain Archer." Iarin drew himself up to his full height. "You are understandably angry. I am here to assist you. I would have intervened long before this, but I was only apprised of the situation this morning...I _will_ aid you and D'Naida _will_ listen to me, you need have no doubt of that. Now, I suggest we hurry."  
  
Archer shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes blazed into Iarin's and he drew a deep breath. That one word, 'hurry' sounded a note of alarm somewhere and he nodded. "I'm bringing my ship's physician," he said.  
  
"Of course... of course." Iarin sounded impatient. "Shall we go, Captain?"  
  
Archer stepped to the door and pressed the control to open it. On his way across the bridge he glanced at T'Pol. "Have Phlox meet us at docking port one. You have the bridge."


	17. Chapter 17

Night had fallen. Reed noticed the change of light through the windows, but it didn't really mean much. He sighed and stirred from his position for the first time in hours. Something nagged at the edge of his mind. A thought, fleeting and illusive. Reed frowned.  
  
He closed his eyes. This was important enough to demand his entire attention for the moment.  
  
 _Numb_... _I was numb..._ He drew a deep breath and pursued the thought relentlessly. _What about it? What?_  
  
Suddenly his head snapped up and his eyes flew open. "Trip!" He attempted to stand but hadn't the strength. "Trip was _numb_!  
  
It made sense suddenly, the reason he'd been unable to feel any pain watching the scene on that water planet. _I wasn't feeling **my** reactions._ Reed's heart began to pound, and he drew several gasping breaths as realization hit him. D'N..." he choked, his throat raspy and dry from thirst, could not form the sound he wanted to shout. "D'N...ida!"  
  
There was no response. Reed bowed his head. He needed to gain attention somehow. He had to see Trip, he had to see D'Naida; anyone, he needed to tell Trip that he understood. He had to think of some way to get D'Naida to notice. Then an idea came to him. _Water_ … he thought, _Water. I need a glass of water. I need water._ Reed laughed, a harsh sound in the back of his throat when the glass appeared by his bed.  
  
Reed's hand shook as he raised the glass of liquid to his lips and sipped it. As he had thought, his action brought a swift response.  
  
"Reed?"  
  
The voice came over the comm system. He supposed she might hesitate to enter the room after his reaction the last time. Reed winced at the memory. He swallowed more water, choking a little, and looked up.  
  
"I want to see Tucker," he said.  
  
"I cannot allow that."  
  
"I want to see him."  
  
"It's not..."  
  
"LET me see him!" Reed dropped the glass to the floor and the water spilled out onto the carpet. "NOW!"  
  
#  
  
D'Naida shook her head, staring into the room at Reed. She could feel his agitation but could not read the emotion that caused it. She frowned as he allowed the water to spill. The first water he had requested in days. D’Naida bit her lips, wavering over what to do.  
  
She spun on her heel as the doors to her observation room opened.  
  
"D'Naida!"  
  
The woman paled as she stared into the amber eyes of her mentor. "Iarin!"  
  
Iarin was flanked by Captain Archer, and another man that D'Naida didn't recognize. She met the eyes of the human captain and her gaze fell before the barely suppressed fury. She swallowed hard and looked at her mentor.  
  
"Step aside," Iarin growled. "And go to your quarters. I will take over here."  
  
"I..." D'Naida faltered "I didn't..."  
  
"Leave!"  
  
The female nodded and hurried out of the room.  
  
#  
  
"D'naida?" Reed struggled to his feet beside his bed. He trembled with effort and his voice was weak as he called again. "Please, let me see Tucker."  
  
He closed his eyes, sinking down on the bed when there was no response. Despair settled over him.  
  
"Lieutenant Reed," A familiar voice spoke softly near him and he started and looked up.  
  
"Doctor Phlox?"  
  
"The very same," Phlox said as he moved to hunker down in front of Reed. "It's all right," he said. "Everything will be fine. Lie down, would you? I want to examine you."  
  
"The commander..." Reed rasped as he lay down on the bed.  
  
"Will be here shortly," Phlox said reassuringly. "Just be patient." He ran a scanner over Reed and shook his head in dismay. "I believe I have spoken to you, on several occasions, about paying better attention to your fluid intake. Hmm?"  
  
Reed smiled slightly. It felt good to have Phlox fussing over him. He closed his eyes saying nothing. He didn't need to.  
  
As Reed relaxed under his care, the doctor frowned at the results on the scanner. He picked up a hypospray loaded with a mild sedative and administered it to Reed. He glanced over his shoulder as the captain entered the room, accompanied by several Surrumaran who carried Tucker between them.  
  
"Put him here on the bed," Phlox instructed. He scanned Tucker when they had done as he asked and clicked his tongue.  
  
"Is there anything we can help you with, Doctor?" Iarin asked.  
  
Phlox straightened and rounded on the elderly male, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "I don't think that is necessary," he growled. "Your people have done quite enough here! You have meddled with the health of two members of a species you neither understand nor have the resources to deal with. The actions of _your_ ‘physicians’ have very nearly cost these men their sanity, not to mention their lives. I will take care of them _if_ you don't mind!" He let out his breath and pointed to the door. "Now, kindly leave me alone with my patients!"  
  
#  
  
Reed woke sometime later to familiar sounds and sights. A heart monitor beeped quietly, and when he opened his eyes, he was relieved to recognize the sickbay. He was home. He stirred slightly and then froze. Someone was with him. Pressed close against his side. Reed turned his head to find that he was not on the average bio bed, and neither was the situation he found himself in 'average' for sickbay. Reed frowned and glanced around furtively before he raised a hand and gently traced a finger along the cheek of the man who lay next to him. Tucker was deeply asleep and didn't stir an eyelash at the touch, but at least he was there. Reed smiled.  
  
"Ah, Lieutenant," Phlox's voice broke in on his reverie. "I see you've decided to return to us."  
  
Reed nodded with a smile. "Doctor..." he glanced at Tucker and then looked into the doctor's eyes.  
  
"He's fine, just resting." Phlox picked up a scanner and activated it. "We are indebted to the Surrumaran for the bed...they have some very advanced technology which...considering the circumstances, they were more than happy to share." He ran the scanner over Reed's head and neck.  
  
At the mention of the Surrumaran, memory flooded in and Reed closed his eyes. It had all really happened then. He hadn't dreamed it. He sighed and swallowed hard. "I'm...glad you got there when you did, Doctor."  
  
Phlox patted him on the shoulder. "You have the captain to thank for that," he said. "I don't know what would have happened had he not taken the actions he did."  
  
Reed nodded. He was suddenly very tired.  
  
"You should try to rest," Phlox said. He laid down the scanner and stepped away from the bed drawing the privacy screen closed behind him as he walked away.  
  
Reed sighed and turned to face Tucker. He put an arm across the sleeping man's waist and burrowed his face into Tucker's neck. "We'll be all right," he whispered. "I promise you – we'll be all right."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home at last and the real healing can begin.   
> At time of posting there is no more to this series, but it may happen yet.

Tucker woke to find his surroundings had changed again. He lifted his head from the small, flattened bump that served as a pillow on a bio-bed and looked around. What kind of game were they playing now? Making him think he was back aboard _Enterprise_?  
  
Tucker struggled to sit up. That was when he noticed something was not right about the picture.  
  
He turned to look over his shoulder and with a small cry he struggled free of the arm that draped across his waist. His thrashing sent him rolling off the bed and he landed with a grunt of pain on his knees.  
  
"What the hell is this," Tucker demanded as he got to his feet. He stared at the man on the bio-bed, and what kind of bio-bed was it that could fit two grown men? He backed away a pace when Malcolm opened his eyes.  
  
"Trip," Malcolm sat up. "It's all right," he reached a hand towards Tucker who backed off another step. "We're on _Enterprise_ ; we're home."  
  
"You expect me to b'lieve that?" Tucker looked up, addressing his words at the ceiling. "This isn't * _my_ * Enterprise. I don't care who ya get t'tell me!" He turned with a start when someone pushed the privacy screen aside and stepped into the room. "Oh, you're good. I gotta give ya that." Tucker stared at Phlox. "But I ain't buyin' this."  
  
"Commander," Phlox smiled reassuringly. "You are aboard _Enterprise_ ," He took a step towards the engineer. "Please calm down."  
  
"No way..." Tucker shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes flicking from Reed to Phlox and back. "I don't believe you. I was in a plain little cell first, and then a nice hotel room, and now..." he waved a hand at his surroundings. "This... This is not _Enterprise_."  
  
"I assure you it is," Phlox kept his posture non-threatening. "Look around, if you like." The doctor stepped aside with a smile.  
  
"Lemme out of here, then." Tucker's voice held a note of challenge. "If this is real, I should be able to get outta here, and walk around the whole ship."  
  
"Very well," Phlox waved a hand towards the opening in the privacy screen. "Perhaps Lieutenant Reed can go with you..."  
  
"Yeah." Tucker looked at his lover. "C'mon, Malcolm. We're gettin outta here."  
  
Phlox picked up a scanner and took a half step towards Tucker. Suspicious blue eyes snapped to him in an instant.  
  
"You keep away from me!"  
  
"All right," Phlox laid down the scanner and backed off. "You will come back and let me examine you though, once you're assured that you really are aboard _Enterprise_?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Tucker wasn't ready to trust anyone or anything. He'd seen what the Surrumaran could create and he didn't trust the evidence of his own eyes. He flicked a glance at Reed who got off the bed and moved to his side.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
Tucker edged past Phlox, all the while looking at him as though he were some kind of bug that might fly at him any moment. He reached for Reed's hand as they stepped through the privacy screen and held it tight until he pressed the door control and the door slid open to let them out.  
  
Before he stepped through the door, Tucker extended one hand, hesitant, as though expecting a shock. He sighed and stepped through after a moment. _So far so good. No forcefields._  
  
#  
  
It had been a long night. Archer sank down in a chair in his cabin. He patted his lap, inviting Porthos up. In fact, it had been a long week. The captain sighed and fondled Porthos’ ears. He wondered if Trip and Malcolm would be okay. He couldn't even begin to imagine what kinds of torment D'Naida had inflicted on them. Phlox was non-committal about their condition when he examined them on the planet. The doctor merely said that both were suffering from dehydration, malnutrition and 'other forms of trauma.' That it was serious though, there could be no doubt. Archer had never seen the Denobulan as angry as he had been on that planet.  
  
On the way back to the ship, he asked the doctor what was wrong.  
  
"I have seen many cases of torture, Captain. I have seen the depths that some species will sink to in their treatment of others..." Phlox shook his head. "But I have _never_ seen such things perpetrated in the name of _medicine_." His bright blue eyes met Archer's for a moment. "Doctors everywhere are sworn to aid...not to..." he glanced at the two sleeping men. "Not to do something like this."  
  
Archer sighed, his thoughts returning to the present with the sound of the comm. He reached for the button.  
  
"Archer."  
  
"Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are awake, Captain," Phlox's voice informed him. Archer smiled.  
  
"I'll come down."  
  
"Perhaps you should delay for a short time," Phlox replied. "They are not here at the moment."  
  
"Not...where are they?" Archer frowned.  
  
"I believe they are heading for engineering." Phlox's voice sounded more amused than anything. "I doubt that Commander Tucker will believe he is really home until he has seen and touched the engines."  
  
With a nod and a snort of laughter, the captain agreed. "Let me know when they come back," he said. "Archer out."  
  
#  
  
Trip lead the way into Engineering and glanced at Reed as they stepped into the familiar surroundings. He smiled, then turned his attention to the warp reactor. He felt the pulse of the ship through the deck plating under his feet and for the first time since leaving sickbay, he let go Reed's hand.  
  
The engine room _felt_ familiar. It sounded right, with the throb of the engines and it smelled right. There was one more thing he needed to do. Tucker climbed a ladder and made his way along a walkway until he stood near the gleaming metal flank of the machine. He put out his hands and rested them against the warm metal. Tucker closed his eyes, feeling the vibrations, analyzing them. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.  
  
Reed stood silent at his side. Waiting.  
  
"Home." Tucker whispered so softly that the word was almost lost in the deep resonant thrum of the reactor core. "I'm home."  
  
He started slightly as a hand came to rest on his shoulder. Looking up he met the grey eyes of his lover.  
  
"We're home," Reed said and pulled Tucker against him. " _We're_ home."  
  
Tucker closed his eyes as tears welled. "Oh God, Malcolm...I..."  
  
"Shhh...not yet, love.”  
  
 **~FIN~**


End file.
